


All That Blood

by aimlesscoyote, Gabriel Muse (aimlesscoyote)



Series: All That Blood, All Those Lives [1]
Category: Dominion (TV), Legion (2010)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angel Chip Toss, Angels have feelings too, Belts, Body Sharing, Choking, Collars, F/M, Feels, Fisting, Gabriel is an asshole, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Manipulation, Masturbation, Non-Consensual Spanking, Psychological Torture, Sadomasochism, Season 1/Season 2 fill-in, Showers, Torture, Whipping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-01
Updated: 2015-09-24
Packaged: 2018-04-12 11:55:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 59,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4478435
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aimlesscoyote/pseuds/aimlesscoyote, https://archiveofourown.org/users/aimlesscoyote/pseuds/Gabriel%20Muse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The setup: Season 1 just ended.  Urial has pledged her "sword" to Gabriel and started to move in to his Aerie, Noma is captive there, Louis is recently slain, Michael is roaming the countryside full of anger/guilt/whatever.  Alex shows up at Gabriel's front door.  Cue scene, this is what immediately follows.</p>
<p>What will happen when Alex walks into the dreaded Archangel's Aerie?</p>
<p>All constructive feedback is welcome <3  I need it to help improve my work.  Thank you!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. (edit 2015-08-04_23:22)

**Author's Note:**

> ###  **Important 15 Oct 2015 (rev. 7 Nov 15): No copyright infringement intended to the corporate leeches who legally own Dominion. I respect Vaun Wilmott, and write this fanfic in tribute to, not to infringe upon, his work. The series' cancellation changes nothing; Dominion is, and will always be, the creation of Mr. Wilmott and his team.  
> **   
>  My writing herein is ©2015 A. M. Coy; please do NOT redistribute this text anywhere without asking me first.  
>    
>  That said, I've received multiple requests to "write a Season 3." I'll give it my best, but to be honest this is just a small (love?) story about Gabriel and Alex. I would rather take the energy of this project and make my _own_ "Dominion" for everyone to enjoy. If you'd like to help with the original fiction, poke me! I need beta readers :)  
>    
> 
> 
> * * *
> 
> I became extremely annoyed that Dominion Season 2 failed to describe -anything- that happened after the end of Season 1, just picked up merrily 3 months later. So... here is my attempt to fill in a little.
> 
> This story is slightly AU and assumes the following:  
> \- Gabriel and Michael have had a (sometimes rocky) relationship for thousands of years which includes sexual and brotherly love;  
> \- Michael has collared Alex, making Alex his (loving) submissive in the past few years.  
> \- Gabriel is able to communicate wordlessly w/his angels, and to link deeply w/those he has possessed.  
> 
> 
> **Index & Ratings**: 
>   * [Main Entry Page](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4478435)
>   * [Chapter One](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4478435/chapters/10180304) \- PG for language
>   * [Chapter Two](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4478435/chapters/10186607) \- PG-13 for language, violence
>   * [Chapter Three](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4478435/chapters/10203927) \- R for language, violence, torture
>   * [Chapter Four](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4478435/chapters/10241871) \- NC-17 for language, violence, torture, breasts, genitals, nonconsensual contact 
>   * [Chapter Five](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4478435/chapters/10280091) \- R for language, wing-love
>   * [Chapter Six](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4478435/chapters/10361862) \- Hard R/Soft NC-17 for language, hurt/comfort, wing-love, genitals, breasts, mention of rape, sex-acts
>   * [Chapter Seven](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4478435/chapters/10413666) \- NC-17, Gabe/Alex hand-job - male genitals, female breast, nudity, language
>   * [Chapter Eight](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4478435/chapters/10430880) \- NC-17, Gabe/Alex and Michael/Gabriel M/M Graphic Sex - rough sex, etc.
>   * ["Damning the Flood"](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4609023) Stand-Alone scene (ch.9) - NC-17, Mich/Gabe M/M Graphic Sex - rough sex, cutting, etc.
>   * [Chapter Ten](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4478435/chapters/10616604) \- NC-17, Gabe/Alex M/M rough belt-spanking, oral, anal remembered
>   * [Chapter Eleven](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4478435/chapters/10694786) \- Hard R, Gab/Alex M/M language, blood, death
>   * [Chapter Twelve](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4718147)/Damning the Flood, Pt.2 - Rated R for some violence, language
>   * [Chapter Thirteen](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4478435/chapters/10873880) \- Rated Hard R (for erections) / NC-17 (for M/M sex) / WTF
>   * [Chapter Fourteen](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4478435/chapters/11043938) \- Rated R for language - no sex, v.little violence.
>   * [Chapter Fifteen](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4478435/chapters/11076899) \- Rated R for language, blood, male genitals, vague ref. to rape
>   * [Chapter Sixteen](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4478435/chapters/11145797) \- Rated R for language
> 

> 
> The role of Dominion's Gabriel will be played by my own Gabriel-Muse, who is not from Dominion and who seems to be enjoying himself just a little too much in the task. ~~The role of Alex will be played by a floundering me~~ \--[No thank god we found an Alex muse eventually.]
> 
> Michael (if I ever get him in the pages) will be played by my own Michael-Muse, who tells me huffily that he's "above such nonsense" and I threatened to write that down so here it is. ~~I will attempt to lure him in later using Gabriel's cock.~~
> 
> Also note: Gabriel frequently refers to Alex herein as a "boy." Please be aware that Alex is an adult by human standards. Gabriel is thousands of years old, and also tends to think of Alex as a "boy" submissive. This is not "kiddie-fic." Thank you.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alex shows up at the Aerie. Gabriel is waiting. But Alex is somewhat of a little shit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rated: PG - no sexuality
> 
> This is a very awkward piece for me. Very short, just testing things out. To create this, I have a Gabriel muse from another series "roleplaying" as my Dominion Gabriel so please, any feedback to improve his performance will be much appreciated. Also, I don't have an Alex muse at all so I'm just writing that from scratch, lol.
> 
> (Edit: Aug.3, 2015 - I got feedback that this chapter needed more description, so I tweaked it some)  
> (Edit: Aug 4, 2015 - I changed the yelling of Alex! to less yelling more presence. And rammed a servant into a column for fun. And technically to demonstrate Gabe's power which becomes important later. Foreshadowing and what-not.)

©2015 A. M. Coy - No reproduction or redistribution without prior, written permission is permitted (coy at dreaminggates d0t com).

**Chapter 1**

"All that blood, all those lives, will fall on you. . . ."

At least his words were not thrown _completely_ to waste. The boy had come, after all. Gabriel stood with chin uplifted, leather-bound hands folded calmly over his pelvis, keen blue eyes tracking the figure now staggering at the edge of his platform. Behind the Archangel, columns spread wider to reveal his throne room, glowing golden and vibrant from rows upon rows of candles. Each light was captured in coarse wrought iron and chain, like medieval prisoners set aflame. Before him, the frigid entryway opened: an arching iron gate, rigid pillars, and pallid marble stretching to the edge of a dizzying cliff. This was not an entrance made for humankind.

Yet here he was.

The boy was durable—or perhaps obdurate was the word—but that unassisted, ice-laden ascent had done him no favors.

. . . Good. Gabriel allowed himself a smirk. _How much do you really want to see me, Alex?_

The interior guards spotted the human, as his coat-choked form cleared the landing platform and stumbled past the first columns. A barrage of silent questions followed for Gabriel. Should they intercept? Attack? Two of Gabriels fingers twitched. _No._

Still, Gabriel made no move forward to greet, nor to assist. Let the boy venture inward on his own.

Never mind that hed been watching since the boy had started to climb, three hours ago. And never mind that hed posted his herald halfway up the cliff, just in case the idiot fell.

Gabriel looked around with a cool expression. _Sustenance,_ he thought vaguely. The human would need some. He might as well be a fair host; Vega had been so recently . . . _kind_ to him, after all.

He addressed one of the lower angels he permitted to serve him: "Bring the mulled wine and cheese." When the lesser gaped instead of moving, Gabriel's eyes narrowed. He reached his mind out in a quick, hard burst of command. The lesser's possessed body spasmed, spun, and slammed itself into a pillar.

". . . Don't let the wine get cold." Gabriel watched only the human in his entryway.

After a brief assessment, Alex did come forward. His frozen feet were unsteady but his face determined, beneath its shock of blond curls. He pulled back the hood of his coat to meet Gabriel's eyes.

Gabriel took a long breath. He found himself muting a flood of fury, involuntary fury which rose at that bold, unfearing stare. Ah yes, here he was indeed: Alex, the boy whom Brother ruined.

In the old days, no human would gaze upon their countenance without permission. Not without fear of imminent death. Far less would they offend with such a challenging, unchecked stare as this. Gabriel's hand unwittingly curled into a fist, and his wings stirred in their sheaths. He took a moment to relax, and offered a simpering smile instead.

_You are nothing but a spoiled pet. When I am done with you, you will whimper and beg for Michael to come retrieve you. Assuming I let you go._

"Where's Noma?" was the boy's salutation.

Gabriel could kill him. _This is the way you greet me, in my own hall?_ "Well, hello to you, too. Alex."

"Where is she?"

Gabriel kept his smile, though it grew more tense. _Yes, welcome to my stronghold, Alex,_ came his bitter, inner reply _. No, don't mind me, I am just King among angels. Standing here like a fool, apparently, for the sole purpose of fielding your moronic questions._ "Noma is fine. I will—"

"Bring her here. Let me see her."

He was losing patience quickly. "You are really not in a position to—"

"Let me see her, first."

That was it. Gabriel's wings extended, sliding like silk from their sheaths. Power rose from within him, warm and thick. He allowed just a hint to ripple below his voice, like razor blades beneath velvet: "Alex? . . . _Be quiet._ " __

The last words echoed through the entry hall. They were not shouted, but every angel present lowered his or her head. Pleasingly, even Alex went back on his heels, eyes widening. It was not _volume_ which created this effect, but Gabriel's power itself. What some might term, his presence.

In the resulting silence, Gabriel drew himself up, smiled tightly, and started again: "Welcome, Alex. Do have a seat." He pointed to a group of pillows arranged around his throne.

Even more pleasingly? Alex sat.

"So you have decided to let me train you. Good, we will interpret those marks and bring Father home in no time." Gabriel was smiling again.

At last, this was getting off to a decent beginning.  
  
---


	2. (edit 2015-08-03_04:31)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gabriel continues to ... experiment? toy? with and examine Michael's obstreperous pet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rated: PG-13 - bad language, mildly suggestive content. Contains nudity but no clear description. That's... coming. I promise.  
> No sexual content, vague teasing about Michael/Alex. Gabriel is strictly hands off.
> 
> I'm still just experimenting with this. My Gabriel!muse is having a hoot roleplaying as Dominion's Gabriel but I'm still struggling to put in Alex Lannon like lines. At least he's having fun.
> 
> All feedback welcome <3
> 
>  
> 
> (edit Aug 3, 2015, just tweaked to clarify a few bits)

**Chapter 2**

The room was sturdy and soundproof: deep grey stone with a thick metal door, no windows, no vents. Gabriel slipped in just as Alex was making himself "comfortable" for the night. The boy's shirt was already off, which was fine for Gabriel's intentions. He slid the door shut and leaned back against it, regarding the boy's lean, muscular form by the ruddy tint of candlelight.

Alex looked up, going perfectly still like a stag caught in the open. He barely breathed, his diaphragm merely stirring, but Gabriel could hear his heart hammering. No, then, not a stag. Humans no longer were noble creatures to him. More like vermin, rats. Their heartbeats so quick, their lives gone in a flash.

Gabriel's kept his voice casual, and his command simple: "Strip."

The human's light blue eyes grew wider, but he did not respond otherwise.

Gabriel started forward. That made Alex react. He backed away, holding up his hands. "Whoa. Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, _whoa_!"

"Don't flatter yourself, Alex. I want a look at your skin." Gabriel could not quite hold back a smirk. "I am sure my Brother has laid claim to every other part of your anatomy."

Alex blinked, and for a moment there was the slightest tinge of pink across his cheeks. Gabriel laughed—an evil sound, even he would admit it—and closed the space between them.

"Why are you still clothed?"

"Don't fucking touch me!" Alex jerked back the instant Gabriel's hand touched his belt.

"There are two ways we can do this, Alex."

"I said don't touch me." Alex had backed himself nearly into the corner. Hastily he side-stepped to ease that predicament. The only furniture in the room was a narrow bed, chest, and table for the candelabra. He scooted around the last, but the room was small. He ended up nearly on top of the chest. Gabriel caught him glancing toward the door.

"That is the second way," Gabriel assented. "Really? Do you wish to make this hard?" He eased down on the bed.

Alex stood poised between the bed and door. He was a twist of muscle and nerves. Gabriel knew exactly what was on his mind; he did not need to pierce that skull of his, to perceive the truth. He kept his expression calm and his eyes on the boy's face.

"How far do you think you will get?" he inquired, as if they were having a regular conversation. "Top of the stairs? Perhaps even the throne room?"

Alex's face tightened.

"A shame, though, you have come all this way. To let it all go, now, well. . . ." He shook his head. "And then also, that niggling little detail, knowing I will raze Vega to the ground the moment your boot leaves my Aerie."

"Fuck you," whispered Alex.

"Pity." Gabriel began to groom his own, pointed fingernails.

" _Fuck_ you," repeated the boy, more vehemently. "I'm not doing this."

"Not doing what, Alex? Sit." Gabriel patted the bed beside him. "Take off your clothes . . . be a good boy . . . and _sit_."

"You can rot and go to _hell_!" Alex shouted. His arm grabbed for the wrought iron door-closure. He wrenched it open, finding no one in the hallway beyond. He shot a half-incredulous, half-vicious look at Gabriel and raced away. Gabriel listened to the rapid slam of those determined boots escaping whatever horror the boy had dreamed up, back in Gabriel's clutches.

Gabriel checked his watch. He still had to deal with Uriel, who was demanding an inordinate amount of space upon moving in. Who knew the woman had _that_ many paintings, good lord. And there was the matter of containing a freshly-liberated higher angel's spirit. And sooner or later, he ought to check on Brother. . . .

He removed his own boots, propped his feet up, and leaned back against the headboard. He could afford a few more minutes. Humans never took long with their lessons. Not clever ones, like he'd been assured this one was.

The returning footfalls were far more quiet. Gabriel pretended not to notice, until Alex's fingers curled around the edge of the door.

"Back so soon?" Gabriel managed to keep the sarcasm out of his voice. Mostly.

"You can't fucking touch me." The boy's voice was more subdued, now. Clearly he had realized that, in fact, he had nowhere to go. Not without causing irreparable harm to those he loved.

Good boy. Gabriel gave him a genuine smile. Again, he patted the bed. "Clothes off. And sit. I will not touch you. Unless, of course, you prefer to be undressed."

The tiniest of shivers worked its way between two lines on Alex's shoulders. Gabriel assumed that was a _bad_ shiver. But one never could be sure. He watched the boy turn away and slip out of those heavy combat boots, then the equally-utilitarian military pants. Alex stopped, then, as if done.

Gabriel flicked two fingers at him. "All of the clothes."

A low sigh filled the room.

"Trust me, Alex, I have seen it. I can assure you."

The underpants came down, exposing a tight backside with well-developed musculature. Gabriel pursed his lips slightly, tilting his head. "I can see why you are Brother's favorite."

Alex frowned. He turned, exposing more of that pretty physique. The boy was well-proportioned in many ways. And the markings. . . .

He had never had a chance to examine them, when Michael had borne them. Now they were inked delicately across this monkey, giving celestial, unfathomable grace to what would otherwise be just another wingless, hapless beast. Gabriel gazed upon the intricate arcs and ridges, the interwoven lines linking eternity with crass mundanity. These were so much like Enochian marks, yet not. Reminders of the Greater Key, yet not quite, no . . . Tibetan? Perhaps. With a hint of Angelic. . . .

Automatically Gabriel did reach out, as if to glide his fingers along one flowing line of sigils, but Alex jerked back with a glare.

"Right. No touching allowed." Gabriel pulled back, clasping his hands together. It stung, though. These markings were for _him_. They were his Father's marks. They were meant as a message for _him_. Not for this idiot boy, this _child_ . . . this, this "Chosen One."

Gabriel could not tear his eyes away. What did they mean? Painted so perfectly across the ridge of bone and muscle. And why on earth had Brother transferred them to this creature, when he could have carried them perfectly well, himself? It made no sense. It just . . . befuddled him. Why?

And why did Brother still love these beasts, when it was clear Father despised and wished to be rid of them?

Gabriel made him sit there, naked and exposed. Why? Because Alex hated to be stared at. There was an angry burn in his cheeks, deepening the longer they waited. The boy hunched on the edge of the bed glaring a hole into the floor, as if doing so might somehow avert the reality that Gabriel's full attention—or so he thought—was focused on his hide.

Gabriel's full attention was never focused on _anything_ , much less the pretty monkey with the marks. His conscious mind was segmented. Portions drifted between the sentries outside, updates coming in from his remote watchers and important Lieutenants, and the drone of his Sister downstairs. Add to that an occasional flicker from three or four notable human spies; the dull, distant roar of the cosmos; and yes—always—the remote fury of his Brother caught in the bittersweet agony-bliss of disintegration. . . . Yes. Gabriel had plenty on his mind. And that was only what came through this heavy filter of flesh.

"Can you make any sense of them?" Alex finally hissed.

Gabriel sat with one elbow propped on the headboard, rubbing a forefinger against his thumb. "Not a bit," he admitted. "But you say you have visions about them?"

"Sometimes."

"What triggers those?"

"Weird situations. Or meditation. I hate long meditations. Or tense places, like . . . confinement."

"So . . . duress." Gabriel's eyes narrowed thoughtfully.

Alex realized, a moment after he spoke, that he really should not have said anything at all. "Good things can trigger them too."

"Mm." Gabriel's noncommittal sound let him know it was too late for that.

Alex backpedaled, holding up his palms toward Gabriel. "I've had them in perfectly normal situations."

"I am sure."

"I had one at breakfast, once."

"Were you eating glass at the time?"

Alex licked his lips uneasily.

Gabriel shifted on the bed, causing Alex to lean away instinctively. Gabriel noted this absently, while lining up possibilities. There were many forms of "duress" which did not necessarily leave marks on the skin. He may or may not need the boy's mind intact. That narrowed down the list somewhat.

Alex was now pointing in that insistent way he had. "Does that door lock?"

"From the outside it does." _Cold water,_ Gabriel decided. _A good place to start, plus relatively easy-to-reverse damage._

"So what's to stop your goons from coming in here and . . . ?"

"My . . . _goons_? Really, Alex." Gabriel was amused by the word. He glanced at the door, then at the human who was still jabbing his index finger as if pointing might somehow illuminate a secret way to secure the portal from the inside.

Gabriel watched until Alex stopped. "Do you truly expect your virginal virtues to be threatened thusly?" Gabriel quirked a sardonic eyebrow.

"Well. . . . I was worried more about being ripped apart, to be honest, but now that you mention _that—_ "

Gabriel laughed out loud, an odd sound of merriment in the cheerless room.

Alex squirmed visibly. "I think I'll put my pants on."

"No." Gabriel kicked them away. "I'm not done with you, yet."

Alex stiffened. "I'll stay with Noma at night, then."

"Again, no."

Alex's backbone straightened in indignation. "I'll sleep outside, then!"

"Again, _no_. You idiot, it is well below freezing out there. If you value all your precious pieces dangling where they belong, you will stay right here and keep warm."

"I'm not going to sleep with an unlocked door!" Alex shouted. "Your Aerie is full of nuts!"

"Granted," agreed Gabriel. "But those 'nuts' obey _my_ order!"

Alex jumped off the bed. "Yeah, we've seen how well that works out!"

Gabriel had the faintest urge to cuff him. Knowing that would cripple him, however, Gabriel folded his hands instead. _Errant child,_ he reminded himself. _Think of him as an errant child, or a pet. We do not punish in anger, do we?_ He sighed and took a deep breath. _What would Father say?_

"Two things," he announced in a quiet voice. Then waited— _waited_ —until the rambunctious child settled down and sat on the bed to listen.

Eventually, it did happen. Good boy.

"First," continued Gabriel, "I fully intend to lock you in here for the night. Being that I have the only key, they would be hard-pressed to come in here to . . . _goon_ upon you. Yes?"

Alex thought about it and clearly decided not to protest until he heard the second point.

"Second, you will be linked with me, so that I am aware—"

Ah, there came the complaints! Alex was back up and shouting again, words that Gabriel hardly took notice of because he already knew their gist. Gabriel brushed them all away and spoke louder: "So that I am aware of _where you are_ and _what is happening_." He stood up from the bed. " _Exempli gratia_ , you are being raped by a random pack of goons. I would then know this!"

Alex had the door open again. "There is no way in _fucking hell_ I am letting you into my head!" he was roaring into the hallway. "No _fucking_ way in _fucking_ hell!"

One of his top soldiers, Nero, was standing outside. "Do you need him restrained, Sir?"

Alex slipped instantly into a fighting stance.

Gabriel subtly shook his head. To the other, he sent wordlessly: _Let it pass, Nero. Touch him now, he will erupt like a pressed boil. I would prefer to avoid the filth._

Nero gave a graceful bow of acquiescence.

Gabriel continued: _. . . Come back in six hours, though, and rattle the door._

A tiny smile touched the corner of Nero's mouth.  
  
---


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gabriel begins helping Alex to see visions. Starting with torture by freezing water.
> 
> Also: Gabriel gets feely.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rated: R for language and violence
> 
> Warnings: Torture, Psychological Torture, Hurt/Comfort (kinda)
> 
>  
> 
> .... On reflection I think I may have accidentally yoinked the "God damn you / Now, now, language" bit from DrinkBloodLikeWine. My apologies if I did. I blame Gabriel!Muse. He said it.

**Chapter 3**

Very cold water has a unique effect upon mammals.

Gabriel sat on his throne, fingers steepled. All around, his people were starting to gather. The room was lit as always with candles, but far busier than usual: golden and buzzing and swaying with shadows all twisted in a hundred directions. Beyond the iron gate, past the platform, the sky was bright with morning.

When a mammal's face is submerged, there is an immediate, physiological response—an instinct passed from prehistory—called the mammalian dive reflex. It is not particularly pleasant. But useful for survival.

Strands of brown hair had come loose again; in annoyance he smoothed them back as usual but they drifted down over his right eye again. He left them that way, glaring balefully through them past the gate at the happy blue sky.

As it happened, Gabriel had a mountain capped with very cold water. It was simple enough to bring a large barrel to his throne room, and fill that with snow. Why the throne room?

So everyone could watch, of course. That was the whole point. Everyone wanted to see the inked monkey. More and more angels crowded in, peering over one another's shoulders for a curious look. Several flew up to the support-beams for a better view.

He even brought Noma to watch. She stood in shackles with her eyes like daggers fixed on him—that is, of course, until he paraded out Alex. Then her eyes were all for the boy. Brows drawn together, pretty lips puckered. Gabriel's gaze swept across her.

_Why on earth would you waste your time with that wingless beast, pretty Noma? You are a perfectly respectable higher angel. Under different circumstances, I might even bed you._

Alex did not appreciate the show. He was naked again, hating it, teeth set in a grim, sullen expression which reminded Gabriel vaguely of Michael. All the boy needed was a twitch in his jaw, and the effect would be complete.

"You do know your nudity means nothing to us," Gabriel pointed out.

"I don't see you flaunting it," shot back Alex. He hunched shivering on the tiles near the barrel of mostly-melted snow.

Gabriel's eyebrows rose in amusement. "I would not want to shame you."

"Oh, because the whole naked in front of an audience thing? Totally not shaming."

"Again. Nudity means little. We were there when your species wore nothing." Gabriel rose from his throne.

Alex simply shot him a look of pure hate. He shielded himself with the barrel, keeping it between them, and tried to ignore the audience.

Gabriel reached up. Two assistants lowered a pair of sturdy chains suspended from pulleys on the ceiling. There were cuffs on the ends. He usually used these for whipping, but today they would serve a better purpose. He reached for Alex's arm, as if to secure his wrist in one, but Alex jerked away.

"I don't fucking _think_ so."

"You have to be lowered into the barrel," explained Gabriel, in a matter-of-fact voice.

"I'll hold on to the goddamn chain."

"Remember that discussion we had? About two ways to do things?" He kept his voice mild.

"I'm only doing this in the first place," Alex pointed out, "to see if it triggers a vision."

Gabriel's voice hardened. His people were watching, and he had little patience for this today. "You will do it because I say you will do it. Give me your wrist or I will _take_ it."

Alex's eyes narrowed. "Look, I'm here to cooperate. But I'm not—"

So Gabriel took him. He gave Alex neither choice nor chance. He reached out, grasped hold of wrist and waist, and yanked Alex where he wanted him.

Alex's breath whooshed as the air rushed out of him. He was used to fighting eight-balls, perhaps even higher angels. But clearly Michael—in his infinite, spoiling kindness—had never introduced him to the true nature of _their_ kind.

Alex now dangled with Gabriel's hand locked around one wrist and Gabriel's other arm supporting him around the middle. There was a line of sweat beading up rapidly along his hairline, and a tremor making its way up his back. To his credit, though, he kept down the nausea and stayed absolutely silent.

Gabriel exhaled, stirring that suddenly-moist blond hair. He rested his chin on Alex's shoulder in a casual way. He murmured into his ear: "Do you know why my arm is around you, Alex?"

Alex swallowed hard. "Why?" he managed.

Gabriel gave a little sigh. "So I did not rip your arm from its socket, when I pulled." He glanced up at the pulleys, letting that sink in. ". . . Physics, and all that." Slowly, he closed one cuff around Alex's wrist. "Are we going to behave, now?"

Alex licked his lips. "Probably . . . probably not."

"A fair enough answer." Gabriel secured the other. "I might reconsider, though, if I were you."

There was something about having a completely helpless, captive creature in one's grasp. Especially naked, and covered in a thin sheen of nervous sweat. Gabriel could not quite help but hold on, just a few extra seconds. It was an illicit sort of pleasure, taking delight in one's control.

Gabriel allowed himself to indulge. Just for a few, extra moments. Alex's body was breathing pheromones to him: stress, agitation, anger. Oh, how the boy hated to be helpless! It was cruel to hold on to him, this way. Crueller to show him off like this: captured and bound. Gabriel did not move.

". . . How did you sleep last night, Alex?"

"You know damn well I didn't sleep," Alex gritted.

"No?"

"You sent your fucking goons to mess with me every twenty minutes."

"I have no idea what you mean."

"Let's just get this over with, okay?" Alex wriggled. "Put me in the damn ice water."

"You might regret those words," Gabriel advised him.

Almost immediately, in fact, Alex regretted those words. He made the most beautiful, terrible sound as his feet were submerged in the icewater, like the howl of a haunted beast. 

"Now there is something you do not get often in Vega," reflected Gabriel. "Snow." He watched impassively as the ice water crept up the human's calves.

Alex kicked, sucking in sharp breaths and cursing as it rose ever higher. When the water reached his groin, he howled and bucked against the chains. "God _damn_ you, Gabriel!"

Gabriel shook his head. "Now, now, Alex. Language." He leaned against his throne.

Alex moaned toward the ceiling and writhed. " _Stop_! I gotta stop!"

"No, you do not."

"Gotta fucking _stop_!" His fingers dug at the chains, trying futilely for purchase.

Gabriel motioned to his assistants, who were still manning the pulleys. They kept lowering Alex in. He moved closer to the barrel, however, to keep watch.

Alex was quickly losing coherency. Even his curses were becoming muddled. By the time the water reached his neck, Alex was wide-eyed and shuddering. "S-s-s-top!"

Gabriel held up his hand, and his assistants paused. Gabriel looked into those light blue eyes beneath the damp blond hair. They were dilated, now. The boy's skin was very pale, his pulse slow, but still maintaining. "Any change, Alex? Any visions at all?"

"N-no!"

Gabriel looked at his watch. The human did not know it but Gabriel _was_ listening to his heart. "A few more minutes."

"Get m-me out."

"You heard what I said."

Alex was panting against the cold. He struggled once more against the chains, trying to raise himself up, but Gabriel patiently pushed him back into the water.

"Deep breaths," he instructed. "Try to clear your mind. You are not even vaguely focusing."

"S'fuckin' _awful_!"

Gabriel placed his hand on Alex's cheek, guiding the boy's head up so that those dilated orbs looked straight into his own. "Calm," he intoned.

"Can't!"

"Calm," he repeated, putting a little power behind it. Just a touch, letting the power whisper from himself to the human.

Alex's eyes became unfocused. "I. . . ." Several heartbeats passed. Then they refocused, locking scared—but defiant—on Gabriel's.

"You will make me do this the hard way," Gabriel concluded, with a slight note of regret. He looked up at his assistants. "All the way."

They resumed lowering Alex into the water.

"No!" snarled Alex.

Gabriel placed his hand once more on Alex's cheek. "Trust me."

"Like fuck I do!"

"Trust me." Gabriel kept his voice calm, kept his hand steady as Alex's head passed under the surface of the water.

Viciously Alex fought. He swung at Gabriel, but had no force. He was shaking too badly, drained by the cold. Gabriel held him under with a steady hand. Listening, always listening.

Screams, yes, the idiot did scream. That would cut down on how long they could keep him under. So would the struggles. Gabriel heard his heart slow down, though, as the cold took effect. He glanced at his watch.

Thirty seconds.

A human in cold water could keep . . . well, even without the mammalian diving instinct, a good two minutes.

Alex's hands clutched the chains in white-knuckled fists. He gripped them, trying desperately to rise.

Sixty seconds. And still Alex fought him, trying to breach the surface.

_Trust me, damn you._ Gabriel held him down, watching him flail and kick beneath the surface.

"Let him go!" came Noma's cry.

Gabriel frowned. If this did not trigger a vision, then nothing would. Constrained, cold, frightened, thinking perhaps he's about to drown. . . .

. . . It was really a shame Alex had not let him link before this, so he could monitor the human's condition more closely.

Alex's hands pushing against him were getting weaker.

Ninety seconds.

Alex's body jolted sharply under the water. His heart lost one beat, then took up a rapid, uneven rhythm.

That was enough.

Gabriel plunged both arms under and hooked them beneath the boy's armpits. He pulled Alex up, faster than his assistants could, using his own body and wings for leverage.

Alex's mouth opened in a gasp that had no air. He clawed at Gabriel's face, writhing to be free, kicking away from him. He began to choke, gagging up water.

"Lower him to the floor!"

The assistants obeyed quickly. As soon as Gabriel freed his hands, Alex beat fists against him. He was still choking up water.

Gabriel ignored the pummeling and forced Alex onto his belly. He pressed a knee firmly and rhythmically into the boy's back. "Cough it up, you fool. You were not supposed to inhale it!"

Alex did so, coughing and retching so violently his entire body shook. At last, Alex got the air he needed to curse. And curse he did, every word he knew and a few he made up, all directed at Gabriel.

"I'll fucking kill you," he concluded at last. "Fucking kill you. I'll fucking kill you. Fucking kill you." He lay panting on the floor. His skin was blue and he was shuddering, hugging himself as the assembled angels watched.

Gabriel snorted. "Next time, trust me."

"Fucking trust you," Alex huffed. His next shout shook the roof. "I'll fucking KILL YOU!"

"Well, at least your lungs are working." Gabriel sank to the floor with one knee bent. He ran fingers through his hair in bemusement.

"Fucking kill you. . . ." Alex curled in on himself with a croak. "Oh, god. You tried to kill me."

"No." Gabriel grabbed hold of Alex's hair, instead, and tugged it in annoyance. He pulled the boy's head onto his thigh and forced him to stay there, even as he squirmed. "You idiot. That was the _opposite_ of trying to kill you."

Alex laid there panting.

"You were safe. You were in my control." Gabriel snapped his fingers, speaking to those gathered: "Someone bring me a damned blanket."

"You almost drowned me."

"Listen to me." Gabriel lowered his voice. "You were safe, until you fought my control. That is when you started drowning. You idiot."

"You pushed my head underwater."

"I knew what I was doing."

"Yeah. Drowning me!"

Gabriel scowled. "Stop that. I should not have to explain my actions. You should listen to my instructions."

"Yeah, right. Like I'm just going to trust you."

Gabriel accepted the blanket that was brought to him and cast it over Alex's trembling body. "I told you I would train you. Help you make sense of those marks you are wearing. But I cannot do that if you will not listen."

"You're a maniac and a mass murderer," Alex shot back. "I'm not going to just _trust_ you with my life on Day One. It doesn't work that way." He cocooned himself in the blanket.

Gabriel gestured at the gathered angels, who were craning for a look at them on the floor. "They have no problem trusting me. They do what I say without question."

"Yeah, and they're _all_ maniacs and mass murderers. So, where does that leave us?"

Gabriel sighed. "Apparently at name-calling."

They were silent for several minutes. Gabriel kept the boy's head on his thigh, which enabled him to run energy through the human's body. Michael could have reheated him in five minutes, no doubt, but Gabriel's greater strengths lay elsewhere. He focused on the essentials: the core temperature, the heartbeat, and the respiration.

Alex refused to look at him. At length he wiped his chapped lips, which were regaining some pink. His heartbeat had become normal, and the trembling had died down significantly. Gabriel allowed him to sit up.

"Let me see Noma," demanded Alex.

"Did you at least have any visions?"

"No."

"Nothing? Not even a glimpse?" Gabriel looked over the markings, but it seemed like nothing had shifted. He needed to set Uriel upon him, to draw the marks.

"Nothing," echoed Alex. "I did what you want. Now, Noma. In my room."

Gabriel looked up at the captive angel, who still stood in chains nearby. "Fine. One hour. Then you report to my Sister."

"I'll need more than an hour. I have to warm up."

_Humans,_ thought Gabriel in disgust. "Four hours. Then I'm sending someone to drag you to Uriel. Whether you are 'warm' by then, or not."  
  
---


	4. (edit 2015-08-06_05:36)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Unexpected Naked Noma Scene O_o''. Or as Gabriel Muse nicknamed it, the "Happy Alex Noma Funtime".
> 
> Followed by Gabriel's "linking with" (read: mental beatdown of) Alex.
> 
> Warnings: NC-17 ADULT content - Trigger Warning, Non-Con touch

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rated NC-17 - Torture / Violence / Non-Consensual Touching / Gay / Whipping / Blood / Mention of boobies / Description of Penises
> 
> I... really wasn't expecting to walk in on naked Noma. Or... really have her as a talking character, lol. I hate it when my muses do this. I do het scenes like once every blue moon, so ... theirs happened "off camera" ;-)
> 
> Sorry if Gabriel overdoes the violence on Alex. I suspect he got carried away. I had to rewrite the mental combat scene twice so far to make it more... understandable from a human standpoint.
> 
>  
> 
> (edit 06 Aug 2015 - got feedback that Alex was not strong enough emotionally during Happy Alex Noma Funtime scene, so went back and made him a little stronger. Also tweaked the beatdown scene to clarify and tweak.)

**Chapter 4**

Gabriel sent no one to retrieve Noma and Alex. He knew full well the pair would be . . . tricky, at best, to part. As he preferred to keep his corridors free of dreadfully-mangled corpses, he himself went to do the deed.

When he unlocked the door, he found them both nude, their bodies tangled together. Her deep brown skin was a warm contrast to his pale flesh, her dark braid stark against his blond curls. She lay beneath him, back pressed to the bed. He was on top of her, clinging, his head resting between her firm breasts. She had wrapped her wings about him—overlapping and rubbing, their long, glorious flight-feathers caressing his hard buttocks, thighs, and calves.

Gabriel's mouth pulled in distaste. _Human with a wing fetish, Noma?_

She heard him, of course. She did not bother to look in his direction. _It's not like that. What do you want?_

_Respect, for a start._

_I did not ram that candelabra in your eye. Doesn't that count?_

_Noma._

She rolled her head in his direction. Her eyes, hard but lovely like tiger's eye stones, met his for a long moment. Then they lowered.

_Much better._ Gabriel clanked the door shut behind him. Alex stirred, very drowsy and comfortable where he was. Noma's wings tightened as if to hold him in place. __

"He's not recovered yet," Noma said aloud.

Alex yawned and looked up.

"It has been four hours," Gabriel pointed out. "Although, Uriel said she will draw the markings tomorrow. She has been. . . ." He made a vague gesture. ". . . Inspired by the scratch of snow against the stones, and must compose a new piece to capture it, immediately."

Both Noma and Alex nodded slowly.

"You, Noma, are headed back to your cell."

Alex rolled to one side. He remained enveloped in Noma's wings, mostly hidden from sight. From there he made a muffled sound of protest, still half asleep.

Noma took in Gabriel's expression and realized this was not the time to push boundaries. She honored the original agreement. _Do not hurt him,_ she whispered, though. Leisurely she sat up, tugging her wing out from under Alex.

Gabriel reminded her: _You are in no position for demands._

_It was a request, not a demand._ She folded her wings and pulled them in, settling them under the skin with a quiet rasp.

_Requests end in "please."_ Gabriel smirked, knowing that was a word she rarely used.

Noma stared at him unreadably over her shoulder. _Michael asked me to watch over him,_ she answered finally. _That is what I'm doing._

Gabriel kept his expression neutral. _You presume I came here to hurt the boy._

_You nearly killed him today._

_He nearly killed himself,_ Gabriel corrected. _That will be amended, tonight._

She stiffened. _What are you going to do?_

"Back to your cell," Gabriel repeated aloud. "Go peacefully, and there will be more Happy Alex Noma Funtime."

_What are you going to_ do _?_ she demanded, louder.

_Go, Noma._ Gabriel held the the door open for her, motioning for Nero to accompany her back.

"God damn you, Gabriel!" She bared her teeth at him.

Alex started in sudden alarm, coming fully awake. "The hell's going on?"

Gabriel sighed. "Nero."

Nero stepped forward, but Noma clenched her fists. Alex rolled warily out of bed to strike the same pose, and Gabriel recognized the first stages of the "mangled corpses" scenario he'd envisioned. His voice hardened: "Noma. Stand down."

Gabriel watched the command wrench through her. Her jaw gritted, fingers clenching tight. Yes, she was aligned with Brother, and as such, she obeyed only his word. But a direct order from an Archangel was agony to refuse for a loyal, un-Fallen higher angel. So it had been with Louis. So it had been with many others, much to their detriment.

Alex's narrowed eyes went from Gabriel to Noma and back. He clearly could not understand why she was standing so stiffly, with her fists up and her teeth bared in frustration. But he too kept still, not sure yet whether this were a standoff or battle. "Somebody tell me what the fuck is going on?"

Gabriel softened his tone. "Alex? Did you enjoy this afternoon? Would you like to have more?"

Alex visibly hesitated, expecting a trick. "Yeah, so?"

"The key to that is compliance."

Alex grimaced, then touched Noma's arm. In a low voice he stated: "C'mon, Nomes. Let's call it a night."

_Good boy. Let your penis speak for you._ And when Noma's attention shifted to Alex, not Nero, Gabriel knew he'd won. He relaxed, gesturing to his soldier. "Nero, accompany Noma back to her cell."

Noma reluctantly agreed. She tugged her clothes back on and disappeared, but not without several warning looks at Gabriel. Which, of course, he handily dismissed.

Alex's brow rumpled as he watched Noma go.

"Oh, don't worry, Alex," Gabriel apprised him. "You will mate again."

Alex choked. He shot a shocked gaze at Gabriel's back—Gabriel could feel it—and almost did not realize he was supposed to follow the Archangel the opposite way down the hall.

". . . Come," Gabriel had to add, a few seconds later.

"Wait, I'm . . . _wait_!" Alex was struggling with his pants. "Where are going?" He trotted barefoot behind Gabriel, trying to catch up.

"My private quarters. I need some privacy for this."

Immediately Alex's voice was suspicious. "Privacy for what?"

Gabriel glanced over his shoulder. "It involves no genital contact." _Unless you want that,_ he reflected. Fairly often during this process he did become aroused. But Alex did not necessarily need to know that.

The flat slapping of Alex's bare feet stopped. Gabriel did not slow, but kept walking. He reached the stairs and ascended. "Come, Alex."

"Not until you tell me what the fuck you're gonna do."

"I will be out of your earshot soon."

"I'm serious, Gabriel, don't fuck with me."

"Then you had better move closer, hm?"

"Gabriel! . . . Asshole."

Gabriel kept walking. When he reached the top of the stairs, he did stop, however, because the sound of feet had not resumed. He frowned.

Then the footsteps moved away, back toward Alex's quarters. Gabriel's frown deepened.

Not _a good boy._

He debated his choices. Give chase and lose face. Wait it out, but he sensed this time Alex was resolved not to follow. Send someone to bring him. . . . Ungently.

Yes, that was probably the best option. That would encourage future compliance, as well.

Gabriel made that happen while he completed the trip to his quarters.

  
  
  


* * *

  
  


Gabriel could hear them all the way down the hall. Alex was struggling, dragging his feet and grunting as they yanked him forward. Gabriel stretched, massaged his hands, and cracked his neck. _The boy never truly stops fighting._

He gazed out the glass doors to his balcony. Beyond was a glorious sunset, as if the sun had been pierced by the mountain and poured ruby-crimson lifeblood into darkness below. His bed was positioned across from that, massive and covered in rich, contrasting textures. It was draped in differing shades of blues.

Gabriel rubbed his forehead.

Soothing. It had to be soothing, when you had the entire Host in your head clamoring for attention, every time you lay down to rest. And it had to be sumptuous, to distract one's self from the realization that you're residing in a breathing meat suit.

_Father will be back soon._ He rubbed his forehead more. _It cannot be long, now. All I have to do is figure out these marks._

His guards knocked, which was polite of them. Then dumped a bloody-nosed Alex on his good Persian rug, which was not. Gabriel lounged on the bed, arm propped against the headboard as he was wont to do, rubbing his thumb against his forefinger.

"So glad to see you changed your mind, Alex."

"Fuck you." Alex spat extra blood on the rug. Which really was uncalled-for. All the blood on that rug was genuinely Persian.

"Busy day." Gabriel stared at the sunset. His tone turned contemplative: "Hypothermia in the morning. Sex in the afternoon. A good beating in the evening."

"You mean drowning in the morning. And . . . that was barely a tickle." Alex pulled himself up, but Gabriel saw the winces. Try as he might, the human just could not recover as quickly as an angel could. The longer he pretended—and took damage like—he could, the faster his body would degrade. He needed a link, if nothing else so Gabriel could know exactly _how_ damaged he'd become.

"Mm." Gabriel favored him with a neutral sound. "Alex, let's be honest with each other, here. I need some insight. And you need some protection."

"I don't want your 'protection'."

"Well you are getting it. Come." Gabriel patted the bed beside him, then glanced over at the lack of response. "Do I have to come get you again?"

Alex had learned that lesson well. He came over and sat on the edge of the bed, still barefoot and wearing only his military pants. He stared at the floor for a minute, then stated: "I don't want you in my head. Telling me what to do."

"That isn't how it works."

"That's how it worked for Louis. You took him completely over."

"That was different," Gabriel noted. "And by the way? That was not _easy_."

"How many times can I say, I don't want you in my head?"

"You can say it as often as you like." Gabriel shrugged. "You are submitting to a link."

Alex's mouth tightened. "I won't do it."

Gabriel reached past him to the bedside table. He poured two glasses of red wine. "This is for me. You can have some if you wish. I like to relax. And you definitely should." He really did not enjoy the prospect of fighting with Alex on this. A subject who struggled did not make for an enjoyable night. The act was ugly and unclean, something akin to a rape, to force one's self inside and lodge there, constantly knowing you were unwanted and intrusive. Gabriel would _do_ it, of course, and had many times. But it really was not high on his list of favorite activities.

Alex reached for Gabriel's glass. "I'll drink from yours."

"Suit yourself." Gabriel handed it over. _If I wanted to drug you, Alex, honestly. . . ._ He just shook his head in bemusement.

Alex drank just a little too much, too fast. He betrayed his nervousness in that, and in the way he perched at the edge of the bed with his toes curled over. Oh, he knew he was trapped, most certainly. And he knew he had a battle on his hands. But in this battle, Gabriel held all the weapons.

Gabriel got up and locked the door. He lit only the candelabra near the bed, an intricately-worked silver piece like cascading leaves. He extinguished all others, sealing the bed into a single island of light, with only the distant stars past the balcony for reprieve. He took his time about it, pacing the room. The entire period, he felt Alex's eyes upon him . . . and smiled inwardly.

"We're being honest, right?" came Alex's call. "So be straight with me." He held out the glass for a refill. "Does it hurt?"

The glass clinked and burbled as Gabriel refilled it. "If you fight? Absolutely."

"And if I don't?"

Gabriel shrugged. "Not really, no. I tend to soothe them as I enter." Gabriel sipped his own wine, scuffing across the fresh marks on his rug.

"Kinda like a virgin, right?" Alex started to laugh, a reckless, wine-driven sound.

"Mm." Gabriel afforded him a tight smile. _You have no idea._ He felt himself stir just a little at the thought.

"So if I relaxed, what . . . what would you do?" Alex splayed both his hands, with the wine glass captured between two fingers. "How . . . what . . . ?"

Gabriel took a breath and eased down on the bed again. He gazed at Alex through half-lidded eyes, then exhaled slowly. When he spoke, his voice was as silken as he could possibly shape it: "Then it would be easy, Alex. I would lay you down . . . let you relax. Open you very slowly. There would be a little strain, as I slid inside. Once I gained entry, I would place roots at the parts of your spirit and brain I require. You would accept the link, like a handshake, and it would be over. Quick and clean. Once I had hold, I could ease any discomfort, and let you rest."

"Just like that, huh." Alex's voice was quiet.

"Just like that." Gabriel smiled. "Think of it as a little doorway, for me."

Alex seemed uneasy and clearly unconvinced. "You make it sound like it's . . . some kind of vacation. Instead of some awful mind-bending that leaves people crazy and suffering."

"Crazy and suffering!" objected Gabriel. "It does nothing of the kind. I will give you an example, Alex."

"Fine."

"Do you remember William Whele, back in Vega?"

"Yeah."

"Did he seem to be in any pain? Or act strangely? Or be distressed?"

"He was . . . odd, but . . . yeah, no, he seemed alright."

"I linked deeply with him."

Alex blinked a few times, then nodded.

"I could look through his eyes, for example, whenever I wanted. I was able to monitor his . . . surface thoughts." Gabriel hedged on that one. "We could even exchange mental messages."

"See? I'm just not cool with that."

"You fail to see the advantage that gives to _you_ , Alex, should you ever get in trouble."

"Yeah that's assuming you even come to save my ass!"

Gabriel drained his wine glass. "We will be linked," he noted, as if that explained all. _Why didn't fucking Michael go over this with him?_

"I'm not submitting to it," Alex announced. "Do your worst." He plopped the wine glass down on Gabriel's bedside table.

"You are an idiot," Gabriel concluded. _But it is to my advantage that you fail to see the two-way component in this._ He, too, set down his wine glass.

"I drove you out of Louis and I can drive you out of me." Alex folded his arms brashly. "Come get it. But if I win? I get to sleep with Noma every night."

Gabriel arched an eyebrow, thinking it over. "Deal." He began unbuckling and unsnapping the leather which enfolded his chest and shoulders. He tugged it off gratefully, letting it fall to the floor. "Take off your pants."

That took the brashness out of Alex again. "Look. You're not gonna—"

"No." Gabriel began unzipping his own leather pants. "But if you have an empyrean blade on you, I'd like to see it before it is sticking through my chest."

Gabriel waited until the other's pants and underwear came off. Yes, Alex was unarmed. Good. He cast his own pants to the floor.

Thank god he could finally be comfortable. Gabriel sank naked onto his covers and just . . . unwound. Being at war was such a pain in the arse. If he could only trade that damned leather more often for his comfortable robes. . . .

The bed shifted slightly as Alex joined him—at a distance. "Well, this is awkward."

"Only in modern times." Gabriel sighed in contentment.

There came a pause. "Why is the bed always gotta be huge? It's the Archangel orgies, isn't it."

"It's the wings." Gabriel slowly extended his, so that they slithered across the fabric. To his surprise, he felt Alex touch one of the flight feathers on his left. Immediately he was on guard, but the human meant no harm; it was a light touch, one of . . . curiosity, it seemed. All the same, Gabriel watched very closely.

Alex glided his fingertips, then his palm, across the long feather which had apparently brushed his thigh. "They're just like Michael's."

"Well, we _are_ twins." Gabriel resisted the urge to twist the feather and retract its sheath, exposing the razor's edge to the boy's palm. That really would not be polite, now, would it? And would stain the bed. . . .

_What would Father say?_

Gabriel closed his eyes. He allowed himself to rest for several minutes, shutting down every voice which tried to reach him but for one. And that one did not consciously reach out. It was close: the soft jitter of a conscious mind's travel from topic to topic.

"Relax for me, Alex," Gabriel whispered.

The jitter became agitated. Gently Gabriel reached for it, placed his mind atop it, let the weight of his own mind settle there. It was painless, merely a listening, a tuning-in, if you will. The jitter clarified, becoming the pitched whisper of a human voice. Alex's voice.

_. . . Thinks he can break in. Michael said the marks will protect me. I'll be with Noma every night._

Subtly, Gabriel shifted, allowing his weight to settle deeper. There was more beneath: tangles of sensation and memory, like the taste of the wine, the pain of the bruises on his arms, the exquisite perfection of Noma's breast against his face as Alex had rubbed back and forth.

Deeper. Gabriel found Michael. The crinkle of those green eyes as he smiled. The frown of disapproval, and the awful weight that carried for Alex. Lastly, the whip. The whip and punishment. The whip and reward. Interesting. Michael should never mix those two. . . .

But Gabriel knew firsthand how much Michael loved those whips.

Alex's fingers tightened on the blue covers as whips rose to the foreground. He stiffened a little and sucked in a breath.

"Relax," Gabriel repeated quietly. "You are safe, here, Alex."

"What are you doing?" Alex's voice was tense.

"Just getting to know you."

"Get out." Alex tried to pull away—not just physically, but mentally.

Gabriel felt the other's thoughts condense as he struggled, becoming thick and hard to push through. "Don't do this, Alex."

Alex tried to sit up. Gabriel rolled toward him and snared his waist with one arm. The Archangel's grim warning was laid like a caress: "I was trying to do this gently." 

Alex's immediate response was to fight the arm pinning him, which was the wrong answer. While Alex's energy was diverted to flesh, Gabriel's attention was focused on mind. His eyes locked on Alex's, blue on blue. 

Alex gave a violent jolt as Gabriel drove the full force of his will straight into Alex's brain. His hand came up as if to shield himself, but it was far too late.

Gabriel had abandoned gentle pressure and listening. He met a blank, white wall of resistance, and slammed himself against it like a bull. That wall was nothing but a shield, and a frail one to boot. It took only three blows, and the wall crumbled. He stepped past, looking around. Beyond was the city of Vega.

_Of course._

Here, in the realm of the semiconscious mind, he had found humans tended to shape things in familiar ways. Locations looked like homes; past memories were manifest. Even their own "bodies" here, in fact, looked like their physical forms. It was quaint. He tended to keep things simple by doing the same, so they didn't get confused.

Therefore, it was no surprise when Alex—blond, tall warrior that he was—sprang from behind the ruins of the wall and tried to put a choke-hold on him.

So quaint.

But here, in the realm of the mind, humans had one truly awful disadvantage:

They had no fucking idea how to fight. Different rules applied entirely.

Gabriel swept up the mind-Alex and slammed him against the concrete, hard enough to break him into pieces had it been a physical blow. Alex gasped, stunned. A moment later he struggled to get up.

_Stubborn boy,_ Gabriel chastised him. _Stay down and link._

Gabriel did not want to destroy him. The goal of this was simple: Eliminate his resistance. Force him to succumb. Every time Alex tried to push back, Gabriel would crush him flat. And meanwhile, Gabriel was reaching inward, making the connections he needed.

But Alex ignored his advice. He got up, lunging at Gabriel with fists upraised. So Gabriel kicked him hard in the ribs. Alex went rolling five or six times, then curled in on himself, coughing weakly. Dying? No. Damaged? Oh, yes. Gabriel stood over him, assessing how much pain he could create before Alex would give in.

_Come ON, Alex!_ he exclaimed. _All you have to do is agree!_

_Fuck you,_ came the weak reply. So Gabriel kicked him again, then again, and yet again. Each time Alex responded by striking out at him, and each time, Gabriel beat him down.

_Alex, Alex, Alex. We can do this all day._ Gabriel crouched next to the suffering figure. Blood was starting to pool beneath him, from multiple skin-breaking, snapped bones. _At least, if you insist on resisting, get back on your feet. Have some pride in yourself._

To his credit, the boy did try. Gabriel watched him struggle with it, knowing those wounds had to hurt like hell. He had to admit, there was a grudging admiration in him for this determined little shit.

_Why couldn't you have been born an angel?_ he taunted. _I could use more soldiers like this._

_I'd be on Michael's side._ Alex coughed again and spat blood at him. _Asshole!_

Back in the physical realm, where their bodies lay, Gabriel rolled on top of Alex. The boy, like most humans, could not fight two battles at once. His eyes were rolled in his head. His body shook, arching now and then as if in pain. Gabriel took hold of his wrists and pinned them above his head.

"Now do you understand?" he whispered in Alex's ear. He buried his face in the crook of Alex's trembling neck. His body pressed down on Alex's, exulting in the sweet moment of knowing he had _utter_ control. His thighs were parted around Alex's, and yes—god yes—he was hard. He rubbed himself shamelessly against Alex's thigh, working his way higher. Every tremor of Alex's sweat-lined body brought him another wave of slick, forbidden bliss.

Back in their locked minds, Alex was weakening. He had resorted to rushing at Gabriel, and Gabriel hadn't the heart to kick him any longer. He simply cuffed him, knocking him off his feet.

_Surrender, Alex._

Alex got up and did it again. Trying to knock him down, Gabriel supposed. Or tackle him. Or . . . bite him, perhaps. He wasn't sure at this point.

Gabriel cuffed him again, like a bad dog. __

This time when Alex went down, he stayed down. He was clutching his heaving sides, coughing up blood. _Let me go,_ came the croak.

Gabriel pulled his head up by a handful of hair. He looked Alex straight in the eyes. _I can't. I need your markings. I need my Father to come home._

_You're killing me._

Gabriel nodded his head, a motion exaggerated for the boy's sake. _Yes._ He extended his leather-wrapped hand. _Take my hand, Alex, and accept the link. I will keep doing this, until you do._

Alex swallowed hard. __

Gabriel shook him. _The moment you accept? All this pain stops. You have my word._

_Your word is shit._

_I have never lied to you, Alex._

Alex's physical body was starting to shudder. The tremors were becoming more violent. Gabriel found himself gripping Alex's wrists tighter, and using the full weight of his body to pin Alex to the mattress. His powerful thighs were still locked outside of Alex's, but his pelvis had worked high enough now his cock could grind wonderfully in those delightful golden curls. The scent of Alex's loins rose to him, thick and full of musk. The word "boy" hardly equated with the aroma of this mature, human male.

Alex's cock wasn't bad, for a human's. Not comparable to his, of course, but nicely proportioned: thick with a round, flared head and a fair length. It filled out as he ground against it. Gabriel smiled, pleased. He closed his eyes, rolling his pelvis, allowing himself to immerse completely in the perfect, forbidden luxury of it. The broad head of his own cock dragged across Alex's, smearing it with clear fluid.

Gabriel moaned aloud. He cooed the words into Alex's mind: _Please relax. I will not hurt you if you relax._ And part of him even meant it. This suffering would stop, if Alex just stopped fighting. He would ease back. He would make it stop. He would be gentle again.

_"No!"_ Alex shouted. The cry was physical, jolting Gabriel badly. His eyes flew open to find Alex struggling back to consciousness.

Wildly he grabbed hold of Alex's mind-manifestation, which still was curled up bleeding in mind-Vega. He wrenched Alex roughly to one side and ripped claws down his chest.

Alex screamed in both worlds—an awful, lost sound. Gabriel nearly dropped him in shock.

Michael was right. The markings did protect the boy. They gave more resistance than Gabriel had ever found, in a human. Plus, there was no way Alex should be conscious in both realms at the same time.

In the physical realm, Alex tried to kick. It caught Gabriel right in the groin. His wings jerked up for a kill-strike, but he wrenched them back down. _The marks!_ he reminded himself. __

Instead, through the pain, he reached into the mind-realm and made something manifest in his hand. It took a moment to solidify, but when Alex's mind-form looked up, his eyes locked upon it in horror.

Gabriel smiled to see that. It _almost_ made his balls stop stinging. _Almost done, Alex. All I need is your submission._ He raised the weapon and let it cascade down upon his own thigh. Nine beautifully-braided strands of leather fell in sequence upon his flesh.

The injured Alex backed away. His eyes were glazing; disorientation and agony were taking their toll.

_I tried to be gentle._ He advanced on Alex.

Alex moaned, _Don't!_

Gabriel raised the cat-o-nine-tails above his shoulder. He took careful aim, finding a spot where the skin was still unbroken. When he snapped it down, the braids sliced across Alex's unprotected back leaving long, vicious red marks.

There was pain, yes, and Alex's cries were at once pitiful and invigorating. Gabriel listened, wondering at the two extremes which stirred within him. Pity, really? What was it about this boy, which stirred such in his breast? Perhaps it was because he knew Alex had nearly reached his limit. And the struggle had been genuinely impressive.

But truly, that was not the only point.

Gabriel raised the weapon and struck again, bringing up fresh marks and more cries.

The point was, this was Brother's favorite toy. And Gabriel knew—thanks to his earlier snooping—that Michael had used it on his boy. This was _Michael's_ punishment for Alex.

He struck a third time, leaving Alex flat on his belly.

A few seconds passed. Alex gave a low, choked sob. _Michael,_ he begged, _please, stop!_

Gabriel lowered the whip. That was enough. Alex was blown wide open, bewildered and suffering, at the very razor's edge of what he could endure. His physical body was shuddering violently beneath Gabriel, in an agony of violation and exposure. He would yield, now.

"It's alright, Alex. You can let go."

But something was wrong. The boy's shudders were becoming convulsions. Yet rather than yielding, the boy kept fighting. In the midst of this anguish, he held on with every inch of his life, refusing to submit. Gabriel had never seen the like, before.

"All you have to do is link," he whispered.

Gabriel had sunk mentally as deep as he could, made all the connections and latched in as much as possible. The last step was the surrender; Alex had to acknowledge and accept. By this step—in fairness, normally a dozen steps back—humans were so exhausted and defeated they surrendered willingly. But not this one.

"Alex?"

_. . . Alex?_

Gabriel knelt beside him in mind-Vega. He placed his palm on Alex's. _Please, for god's sake, take the link. This will be over. You can rest, and heal. I will heal you, myself!_

Mentally, Alex trembled against him and pulled away. Somehow, the idiot boy still had the wherewithal to refuse his offered connection. But it took the last of his strength, and afterward he went very still.

_Damn you Alex. Connect!_

Alex in both realms was beyond words. His response was silence.

Suddenly, the boy's physical body gave a sharp jerk. Gabriel sat up, eyes widening as he realized how serious this had become. Alex's body was entering full seizures, his head lolling back, mouth open and eyes rolling wildly in their sockets.

"Shhhhhhhhhhhhit." Gabriel stared in shock, genuinely not knowing what to do. He had never lost _anyone_ by a refused link, before. One thing became clear: without a conscious mind to pilot it, Alex's body would become comatose. Or worse. And he had just soundly beaten Alex's mind into shivering silence.

One thing to do. Immediately. Gabriel slipped one arm under Alex's neck and the other under his lower back. He folded himself into a sitting position, pulling Alex's limp form with him. He had to secure the flesh. Wandering beings—particularly lower angels—would notice an unoccupied body and take it for a joyride.

Gabriel held Alex slumped across his chest, concentrating. Sealing, warding, protecting. Michael's personal sigil was already written all over the boy, but Gabriel added his own—basically angelic graffiti shouting, "This is mine!" Let Brother argue about it later.

_Just keep breathing, Alex._

Perhaps with rest, the boy would recover enough to complete the link. Or so Gabriel hoped.

In the meantime, Gabriel held him close like a broken toy.  
  
---


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gabriel tries to recover Alex from stasis and coma, after the beat-down he gave trying to link their minds.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rated R for language and reference to wing-love
> 
>  
> 
> I've been sitting on this chapter a few days because it just wouldn't come out right. It's still not right. Grr.

**Chapter 5**

The heartbeat. He was back to listening for the boy's damned heartbeat.

Gabriel was exhausted. He lay beside the boy, nearly atop him, with the covers pulled over them both. There were dark circles under his eyes, and a great deal more time than five o'clock on his jaw.

_Brother is going to kill me,_ he concluded _._ Gabriel wiped a weary hand across his face. His hair was in his eyes again, oily and irritating. He brushed it back, only to have to sweep down over his right eye once more.

_It is really not my fault. The boy should have given in._

The sun had come up half an hour past, bruising the sky above the mountain. Yet Alex still had not stirred. There was no response from him in either realm, not all night. He lay perfectly still, barely breathing. His heartbeat was very slow.

Gabriel got up to take care of the body. He washed his face and brushed his impertinent hair. Fuck it, he decided, he'd leave it draping over the eye. It looked good that way.

Meanwhile, he went through the backlog of messages waiting in his head—about two dozen of which were from Noma, no surprise, demanding with increasing anxiety why she could not find Alex's signal among the million-or-so humans left on Earth.

He was in no mood for this. He replied to her: _Because he's in a damned coma and his spirit is in stasis. He did it to himself._ Gabriel stared at himself in the mirror, then added: _Also, if I leave him for more than five minutes, he will stop breathing. So_ do _stop interrupting and be quiet._

No one ever accused him of being tactful.

Gabriel climbed back in bed. He placed his palm once more over Alex's chest, allowing that familiar trickle of power to seep once more into the human's core. The heart, the lungs, the brain stem, the kidneys, the liver—so long as the basics kept on running, the body would be fine for Alex to return. But this task was tricky; this was not something he could verbally command and make so. This was something he had to _concentrate_ on and give of his own, deeper self to achieve. Gabriel did not like it, but this was his responsibility. He had caused it.

Father would make him fix it.

Gabriel closed his eyes. For the thousandth time, he stepped through the splintered wall into the realm of Alex's semiconscious mind. Jagged bits crunched underfoot. They did no harm, despite his being barefoot and naked. Both men were, to reflect the state of their physical bodies. Gabriel could easily change that but . . . no need.

He crossed the bloody concrete to Alex's form, battered and shattered as it was. Pitiful, really, covered in bruises with bones sticking out. He lay on his side, arms tangled together, legs the same, completely still as if he were dead. Gabriel stood examining what he'd done.

No, Gabriel was not ashamed of himself. That was not the right word. Regretful? Almost. It was just such a damned waste of time and effort, that Alex had pushed the issue so far when it could have been so easy and simple.

Gabriel settled to the concrete beside him. He picked a bit of broken wall from Alex's hair. Alex's spirit, including this mind-projection here, was in stasis—a sort of sleep, an unresponsive state. There was nothing Gabriel could do to rouse him, it seemed.

Over the course of the night Gabriel had called to him. Yelled at him. Cursed at him. Shaken him. At four in the morning he had even sung to him, beseechingly, calling for him like a child lost in the desert sands.

That, at least, had brought a stir of life. Alex had pressed back against him for a moment, before going still again. Which gave Gabriel hope he was indeed still present. Perhaps just beaten and drained so badly he could not or would not move.

_Will Father still come back, if we kill the one who bears the marks? Or will that be the final straw?_

Gabriel combed fingers anxiously through those blood-spattered curls. The boy lay crumpled on his side, facing away, like some brutally-slaughtered carcass. And here sat he, the mighty carnivore, set to eat his fill.

_Damn you, Alex, all you had to do was say "yes!" Was that so goddamned hard? You idiot!_

Gabriel eased himself down on the stained concrete of that imaginary Vega. It was not comfortable, so he extended his wings and lay on one, to have at least some padding beneath him. The other wing he draped partly over Alex's shoulder.

Stubborn, wingless beast. Why did he have to be that way? Gabriel dragged Alex closer. He might as well start to set some of these bones. If they were _linked_ of course, he could have done it simply. . . . Gabriel muttered to himself and worked. His wing lifted and slid along Alex's arm as he inspected the wounds.

Faintly he felt a tug along two of his long flight-feathers. Thinking he had snagged them on something, he leaned forward to see. To his surprise, he found Alex's fist had closed on their tips.

His brow rumpled, then smoothed as realization came. Two images struck: first, Alex stroking his feathers last night; second, Noma caressing Alex's naked skin with her wings. And he had even teased her—

_Human with a wing fetish._

Gabriel lay back down, this time so close to Alex that they were pressed together. Gently he dislodged his feathers from Alex's hand . . . and began to stroke Alex's body with them.

The effect was almost immediate. Alex shifted closer to him. Plus, in the physical world, the boy's heartbeat became stronger.

Gabriel's eyebrows rose. Well! This act was rather objectionable, to put it lightly. He often mocked those who engaged in what he called "wing-love" with humans—the tendency to stroke or pet them with one's wings. Amongst angels it was perfectly natural, of course, but with humans? Rather like bestiality, in a way.

Then again, wasn't any sort of sexual contact with them, technically bestiality? Gabriel distinctly recalled rubbing himself against Alex in the heat of the linking, last night.

He lowered his wing again, gliding it across Alex's broken ribs. Alex sighed, tilting ever-so-slightly toward him.

Gabriel mused: _Well, if it works. . . ._ And no one had to know. Right?

Through experimentation, Gabriel discovered that just covering Alex, and moving the wing slightly, was enough to give him comfort. Alex tended to press close and take up a sort of nestling motion that was oddly . . . rather soothing, actually. Gabriel was glad no one was about to witness this. It would be very hard to explain. But, he reasoned, the boy had earned some sympathy from him, after all the beating and torment. A little bit of illicit wing-love and cuddling, where no one would ever see it, would do no harm.

To tell the truth, Gabriel himself could use the stress-relief. This leisurely comfort reminded him of the way he and Michael had once lain together. He found himself smiling down at the boy spooned against his chest, realizing that this is the way Alex must lately cuddle up to Michael. So very little changed over the centuries, it seemed.

That led him to darker thoughts, though. He found himself wondering if Michael treated Alex the same in all things, whether Michael expressed his rage or disappointment now as he did, then. Surely not; the boy would show signs. But then, theirs was still a young relationship, Alex and Michael's.

_I could warn him,_ Gabriel mused. _But he would not believe me, of course._

Alex continued to strengthen, but it was gradual. Gabriel stayed where he was, very patient, listening and watching. The sun beat down upon them here with no heat. No wind stirred the trees or grass. Everything was absolutely still in mind-Vega.

By contrast, in the real world, it was Alex who was absolutely still. Gabriel had to keep gently—so agonizingly gently—giving him supplements of power to keep him breathing. These were like tiny electric shocks, but in this case, they were jolts of the Archangel's own life-force.

If asked about such, of course, Gabriel would never admit it. This, _this_ was something he had done—would do—only for Brother. Not even his own officers merited such, except in the most exigent cases. And yet here he was, giving his most precious of all gifts to a lowly creature who would never know, nor appreciate, what he had received.

All because of some stupid marks no one could read. Which, Gabriel was beginning to suspect, would turn out merely to be the godly equivalent of "Gone Fishin'."

He stared outside as the afternoon sun began to spill through his balcony. That was the point, though. No one would ever know what he had done. Brother, though, Brother might be able to tell.

Brother would think him mad. But if it brought Father home, any price was worth it.

In mind-Vega, Alex began to mumble. It had taken all night and most of the morning, but Gabriel realized Alex's thoughts had begun to resurface. He closed his eyes again to focus.

Yes, Alex's consciousness was returning, but it was muddled and dull. The boy nuzzled into Gabriel's chest and whispered: _Michael?_

Gabriel felt his heart squeeze. It was sharp, bitter sadness to be mistaken for someone with whom you ached to be, and yet detested at the same time. Add to that the ridiculous simplicity with which he could pretend to _be_ Michael, right now, and it just became . . . painful and ludicrous. He could have anything he might ever desire with this wretched creature, given the tiniest effort on his part. His hair was already turning dark, unbidden. Gabriel watched it shift before his eyes.

He did not answer right away, but ran a hand down Alex's back. He thought to himself: _Father would never stand for that. I would shame him with even the thought._

_Never mind what Brother might do._

Alex's next words were a very quiet, simple appeal for help. He sounded like a child: _Michael . . . hurts._

Gabriel sighed. Very softly in his own voice—resisting the temptation to mimic Brother's—Gabriel spoke: _Connect with me, Alex. The pain will end._

Alex sucked in a ragged breath. He pulled back, but Gabriel tightened his wing to hold him.

_Keep still. You are badly hurt._

_Where?_ Alex's tone was confused.

_You are in my private quarters. Safe._

_Can't move. Can't . . . feel my body._

_We will fix that. You have to trust me; let me help you._

_Trust._ Alex spoke the word as if it made him sick.

Gabriel simply offered his palm. _Take it, and accept my link. All this pain stops._

Alex gazed at him with sad blue eyes, a shade lighter than his own. His inner shields were gone, now, with no sign of guile or even his protective sarcasm remaining. He was stripped. _I can't._

_You can. Don't you want this pain to end?_

Alex pulled a face. _Why do you have to hurt people?_

Gabriel looked back sincerely. _People don't appreciate something unless they suffer or beg for it, Alex. And in your case? I simply had to beat the defiance from you, first._

_Why?_

_So I can reunite my family. My Brother hates me, Alex. My Father abandoned me._

Alex stared him down. _You think,_ he asked quietly, _you're the only one whose father left you?_

Gabriel was not interested in a staring contest. He rolled on his back, bringing the wing up and out of reach from Alex.

Out of the corner of his eye, Gabriel watched Alex's head rise, as if to see where the wing went.

_I can't bring mine back,_ Alex added. _You killed him._

_A necessary casualty._

_Say that again,_ Alex choked _. I'll stab you with my own broken rib._ He was trying to sit up, now. Gabriel casually placed a hand on his neck, bearing him back down.

_You know I would stop killing your kind,_ Gabriel noted, _if Father did come home. If we could read those marks on your hide? It would no longer be necessary. I would stop._

Alex paused. _Yeah?_

_Mm. Unless Father told me to go on, of course._ Gabriel observed his response, then teased him with the tip of one wing.

Alex shrugged it off.

_Don't you want it? You did, earlier._

Alex's cheeks reddened. _I shouldn't, with you._ His voice was very low. _I only . . . I mean, because I thought you were Michael._

Gabriel tilted his head. _You get a lot of wing-love, then._

Alex didn't answer.

_You're in pain, Alex. I know wings can ease that. I know they can heal._ Gabriel began to preen his wing, combing the feathers neatly in place. He watched the boy out of the corner of his eye.

_Just stop torturing me, Gabriel._ Alex's voice was exhausted.

_In fact,_ mused Gabriel in a neutral tone, _I suspect that is how you've been cheating the system._

_What?_

_Superhuman Michael's Boy. Fights angels, rests a few hours, emerges good as new. Humans can't do that, Alex._

Alex tried to shrug, but the damage prevented it. Instead he hissed and closed his eyes.

Gabriel continued: _No. You have a secret step in there. You fight a few angels, get some wing-love, emerge good as new. Hm? It makes perfect sense._

Alex didn't answer.

Gabriel slowly turned to face Alex. He allowed his voice to become mocking: _I do believe I've discovered your secret, O Chosen One._

Alex looked away.

Gabriel smirked. He thought privately: _So that is how he does it. Not superhuman, after all._

_It's not "good as new."_ The eventual answer was very quiet. _It barely does anything, most of the time. Unless it's Michael._

_. . . Who is away somewhere, conveniently._ Gabriel propped his head on one fist.

Alex looked up at him. There was sudden, unexpected misery in his eyes.

_Noma can't provide for you, can she?_ Gabriel allowed his mocking to deepen. He regretted it though—just a fraction—when that blue-eyed misery deepened.

After a moment, Gabriel extended his palm. _Link. And I will provide._

Alex grimaced.

_Alex? This is not a choice. Your body is dying. I am offering you two gifts, now, for one simple act on your part. Your alternative is death._

_What do you get out of the deal?_

_The link. And not having to explain to Brother how it is that I killed you._

_That's a pretty big bonus._

_I thought so, yes._

There came a pause. Alex squinted a bit. _Can you at least not watch me pee?_

Gabriel raised an eyebrow. _Pee? Seriously, you are worried about . . . ?_

_It creeps me out._

Gabriel blinked. _I can promise you, Alex, I have absolutely zero interest in your micturation habits._ Gabriel flexed his hand, which was still outstretched.

Alex licked his lips uneasily. 

Gabriel's voice was velvet-soft: _Alex. . . ._

_You'll stop killing humans._ Alex stared into his eyes.

_When we figure out your markings and bring Father home,_ Gabriel specified.

_I guess that's the best I'm gonna get._

_That, and, well . . . life._

Alex stretched out his hand. Slowly he clasped Gabriel's palm. He swallowed hard and spoke: _I accept your link._

Gabriel gripped his hand. Immediately the link took hold; he felt all those connections he'd made earlier come to life. There came just the tiniest surge of disorientation as everything locked into place, including access to a body that was vacant.

Alex's eyes widened. He pulled back but Gabriel held on to his hand.

_It's alright, Alex._

_You didn't tell me. . . ._

Gently Gabriel pushed him down. It was easy, now, for he didn't have to touch him. He simply reached out as if Alex were one of his own fingers. He made that finger rest. _Shh. Good boy._

_Oh, my god._ Alex jerked against the control, and found he had none of his own. _What have I done?_

Then Gabriel felt it hit: the familiar surge of panic, followed by rage. He let Alex dwell in that for a few seconds, but did not let him move.

_Let me go!_ Alex screamed.

Gabriel kept his voice calm. _There's no point. You would just go and hurt one of us._

He examined Alex, now that he could see properly inside. The damage Alex had suffered was truly grievous. The more he saw, the sicker he felt. Alex had shredded himself down to the thinnest threads, in order to fight him off. There were parts of his spirit that Gabriel could see through. This would take weeks of repair.

_Let. Me. GO!_ The words were soaked in blinding fury. Alex could not _stand_ having his power taken away like this. The longer Gabriel held him immobile, the worse it got. Gabriel felt it rush across them both in wave after wave, like dagger-laden sheets of metal.

Time to put his foot down.

_Alex._ Gabriel quietly picked Alex up and pulled him into his lap. _At this point I could punish, or simply impose calm on you. But I am curious: why so angry?_

_You tricked me!_

_I most certainly did not._ Gabriel eyed him seriously. _You knew I would be able to impose control._

_Not like this!_

_Calm, now._ Gabriel imposed it on him, whether he wanted it or not. He placed a hand on Alex's cheek and pushed the quiescence over Alex's mind like a shower-cap. It suffocated the rage's flames. _Shh. Calm. Be calm, and listen to me._

Alex had no choice. His eyes unfocused, and he gradually went quiet.

Gabriel smiled. _Good boy. Now, you see how easy this is, when I am in control?_

The look Alex gave him was resentment and distress. But no anger. Good enough.

_We're going to reenter your body, Alex, now that you're listening. It is very important that you follow my directions. Because I, when we do this, will be focusing on keeping your body alive. Understand?_

Alex did understand. He wanted to dig his fingernails into Gabriel's eyes, but he understood just fine. Gabriel explained the procedure at length, and Alex grasped it the first time. He was clever, yes. Just stubborn. __

The problem truly was, Gabriel realized after nearly an hour, that Alex did not trust him. He could understand the instructions fine; he simply did not _trust_ Gabriel or his intentions. Try after try after try they failed, and Alex withdrew at the last second.

Finally Gabriel simply let him go—released him from his lap and his mental grip. He watched the human back off like a wounded wild animal, still unable to rise.

_Are you strong enough to try it again?_ Gabriel pressed. _We cannot leave your body like this._

_I'll try it again,_ agreed Alex. _But I need a rest._

Gabriel took a deep breath for patience. _I am returning to the physical realm for a few minutes. When I return, we will give it another attempt._  
  
---


	6. the chapter that won't die

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm so tired I can't even remember what happens in this scene. But there's a naked Noma, and naked Gabriel and naked Alex. And dinner rolls somewhere in there too.
> 
> And mention of fellatio but no one actually has sex. :( I can't stop writing PLOT. Damn it! wtf.
> 
> No wonder Gabriel-Muse is vexed with me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rated Hard R maybe soft NC-17 for breasts, genitals, wing-love, discussion of rape, hurt/comfort, rape, and sleep deprivation.
> 
> Grr. I've been editing this chapter for days. Every time I edit it, another thousand words somehow tack themselves on. I can't make it pretty. This chapter really sucks. But I'm posting it, so it will stop sitting here in Ywriter looking at me accusingly. And so I can go to bed, because it's 8 hours past my bedtime. And I -really- want to get to the shower scene, which is next chapter.

**Chapter 6**

Gabriel dragged himself up, pulling the covers with him. He stretched the stiffness from his wings and slid them silkenly back to their sheaths. A long exhalation came from the root of his being. He turned to regard the naked form splayed in his bed.

Alex lay half-draped in sky blue satin. The sheet had fallen to the ridge of his hip, angled just so to display the root of his manhood. The golden kiss of late afternoon—or was it evening?—sun gilded a delicate trail of fur leadiing down to it.

Gabriel chuckled. Here was Michael's pet. Ostensibly Gabriel's replacement, but he knew better. Over the centuries Michael had kept plenty of pets, yet none of them ever had sufficed as true replacements. They were simply extra toys. Often shared, always discarded.

Gabriel graced slow fingertips down that flat, rippled belly. Michael always could pick them. Male or female, Brother always had an eye for the best in humanity.

Gabriel would be lying if he denied the stir in his loins at the sight of this pretty boy posed on his sheets. Lean and strong, he was sculpted by hard training into masculine refinement. Add to that the intrigue of Father's cryptic, last message and, well. . . . Gabriel tilted his head. He did not often choose human playthings; they were beneath him. But this one? Perhaps.

And Gabriel had conquered him. That was what _truly_ caused the quickening in his loins and chest. Alex was his, now. He could have anything he wanted. Simply pin him, take away his control, and just. . . . 

Gabriel trailed off. He ran his fingers through the sweaty curls which framed that stubborn face. _Not much fun that way, is it?_

Not any more fun that way, than simply pinning by physical force and taking it that way. Control was exciting, but brutality, not as much.

He could have it, of course. He could even twist Alex's mind, at this point, and make him _want_ it. Gabriel's brow wrinkled. Hell, he could even make Alex think he was Michael, and. . . .

Gabriel turned away.

_Brother would never forgive me._

Gabriel scowled at the shadows. No, what would it hurt? Besides Alex, of course. Michael deserved it, for abandoning him.

Then he heard the human's breath grow shallow again. Knowing what that meant, he pressed his palm to the boy's chest. He reached within himself to gather yet another handful of his own life-force. This he trickled into the boy, to sustain his flesh for another few, precious minutes. He had plenty to give, but he had done this all night. He badly needed a break.

_Stop this debate,_ he told himself. _You are muddled. This is nothing but after-linking confusion. It has happened before, and it will clear. Fuck him a few times or send him away. That always works._

Gabriel retreated to the bathroom. He took care of the body's needs, recalling with amusement Alex's request not to be observed whilst peeing. Peeing, of all things. Not masturbating, no. He chuckled.

_Everyone has their hangups._

Alex was excruciatingly stubborn about his. No, it was beyond stubbornness; it was that he was absolutely set on mistrusting Gabriel, no matter what.

Each time they had tried to reanimate the body, Alex had failed to make the leap between spirit and flesh. Gabriel knew what the problem was. Alex had to trust him to hold open the spirit-gate. Gabriel could not hold that gate, plus smile and reassure the boy, plus donate his own life-force all at the same time. So, faced with silence, Alex assumed Gabriel was up to no good.

Well, Gabriel was not _about_ to explain what it was that distracted him so. But they were running out of options.

Gabriel scrubbed his face and vowed to wash the hair later. His body needed sustenance, now. With a groan, Gabriel pulled on his leather again. It was stiff and uncomfortable after being in the floor. He checked on Alex once more, then stepped into the candlelit hallway. No one was there—he typically did not post guards when he wanted privacy, because, well, angelic hearing.

He hurried toward the mess hall. To his surprise, he realized it was crowded. What time was it? Dinner. Had this process really taken all night and day? The high-roofed hall buzzed with people crammed along great, candle-laden tables. They exchanged gossip in Angelic and warm rolls in woven baskets.

Rolls, perfect. Gabriel could smell their nutty creaminess from the doorway. He advanced on the nearest table and captured two. His communications were still shut down—something his people respected, even in the physical realm—so the voice which broke through startled him:

"Gabriel. You look like fucking hell."

_Shit._ "Good to see you too, Noma." He sent to her briskly: _He is not dead. I am working on it_. _Leave me alone._

"I want to help."

Inwardly he growled. _Are you able to maintain a class four intraspiritual gateway?_

She hesitated. "Which one's class four, again?"

_Have a good day, Noma._ He spun on his heel.

Her chain jangled alarm as she jerked up. Her guard, caught by surprise, fumbled his fork to the floor and struggled to rise. Gabriel waved him down.

She stepped into his path. She was all straight white teeth and dusk rose lipstick. Idly he wondered where she got lipstick in captivity. "Let me help," she hissed. ". . . You look fucking exhausted."

Truth to be told, he felt fucking exhausted. Gabriel stared into that hard tiger's eye gaze of hers. Finally he conceded: "Class four is hybrid-spirit/mind-to-body."

"I can do it." __

"Are you sure?"

"For him? I'm sure."

Gabriel took hold of her chain. "Come."

  
  
  


* * *

  
  


"Oh my god, what did you fucking _do_?"

_What did I not do?_ Darkness had not yet gathered, but was on its way. Gabriel clicked the lock and lit the leaf-candelabra by his bed. He allowed grimness to creep in his tone: "Wait until you see his spirit."

Noma stood over the boy gaping in what could only be termed "enraged horror." Her mouth was wide open beneath a brow so furrowed, it looked ready to be planted. Flame shimmered in those hard, brown eyes. "No wonder I couldn't get a signal!" she shouted. "He's practically dead!"

"Not quite."

"This is your goddamn fault!" She jabbed a finger at him.

"It is," he agreed. "Strip."

That froze her fury, mid-jab. "What?"

"Shall I repeat the command?"

She blinked. "Look," she snapped, "I'm here to—"

"Help Alex. Yes. And I need to be comfortable. Therefore, you need to be unarmed and naked. Strip." Gabriel poured out the wine again.

"Frikkin' pervert," she muttered.

Gabriel ripped into his rolls while she disrobed. He gave her the dignity of not watching while she tugged off her t-shirt and unhooked her bra. She was untying her boots when Alex's breathing became shallow again.

Gabriel moved to place his hand on Alex's chest.

"Whoa! What are you doing?" Noma moved to stop him.

Gabriel's arm deflected her. His voice hardened: "Off." He closed his eyes, pulling more life-force from within him.

"What are you . . . ?" Noma's voice trailed off as she watched. Her voice softened several notches. "What are you doing?"

Gabriel let his energy trickle into Alex. The boy's breathing steadied. His heartbeat grew stronger again. He would last a few more minutes.

Noma stripped the rest of the way in silence, but Gabriel felt her eyes upon him. When she was naked, he searched her clothes. No weapons. Only then did he begin to unbuckle his leather.

In truth, yes, he could have let Noma remain clothed. She had been searched a hundred times, and the worst she might have had was a butter knife from dinner. Plus, they both knew a higher angel completely stripped was more deadly than a human with an AK-47. But that was beside the point.

He preferred to work this way. And if _he_ were going to be naked, well, everyone would be.

"You and I have an agreement tonight, Noma," he spoke solemnly. "Neither of us is going to harm the other. Understood? We are working together for Alex."

She began, "If you hurt him—"

"We have an agreement, Noma." He stared her straight in the eyes. "If you do not agree, I will not accept your assistance."

Noma instinctively lowered her gaze from the Archangel's. She struggled with it, but eventually nodded. "I agree."

"I bind you by it."

She winced slightly, but nodded again. To be bound was more than just a promise; she could not easily break it. Nor could he. It was one of those angelic arrangements humans rarely understood, like a serious vow which would hurt the one who broke it.

Gabriel took a deep breath. This situation was tricky. He did not precisely trust Noma. But she had every motivation to help Alex—which meant, under these circumstances, she was trustworthy. And, of course, the binding would keep them both in check. He turned to work his pants off, still feeling her eyes on him.

When he looked up, though, she was stroking Alex's hair. All she said was, "What do I do?"

Gabriel slid once more into bed, regretting how briefly he had escaped it. He pulled Alex against him to give her room. "Lie down. I will open the actual gate; you must maintain it until Alex comes through. You may also call to him, encourage him. I am having difficulty with his stubbornness."

"He is pretty hardheaded," she agreed. She lay down as if the mattress were made of broken glass, facing Gabriel. She wrapped a slender arm around Alex's waist so that her rounded hip snugged against the boy's. Her cheek came to rest on his shoulder, and the globe of one breast sank against his chest.

_Trust. Now it's my turn. Here's to hoping she won't strangle me._ Gabriel grimaced and sent his attention inward. He stepped through the broken wall into Alex's mind-Vega.

Within, all was still. He paced across the bloody pavement to find the boy hunched naked and shivering at the weed-strewn base of a building.

Haunted eyes canted up to greet him. Alex said nothing, but hugged himself a little tighter.

What was this, self-pity? Gabriel had no patience for that. _Come, Alex,_ he bid the boy. _We'll try again._ He reached down, as if to offer a hand up.

Alex swallowed hard. Gabriel still had not fixed his injuries—getting back into the body was more important—so blood continued to dribble from open wounds and visibly-broken bones. It mixed with dried blood on his skin to make of him a gruesome, shifting tapestry of reds, pale peach, and black.

Gabriel waited, but the boy did not respond. _Alex,_ he prompted. _We are going to reenter your body. Come._

Alex shook his head, ever-so-slightly. He leaned back against the wall.

Gabriel peered at him. Alex had always shown defiance and strength. Now, in the wake of his defeat, there was this strange, hollow look which was altogether unfamiliar. Hollow and . . . something more, something exceptionally not-right.

He had seen others change, once the link took hold, but this . . . no, this was different. Gabriel watched him for several seconds. _What is wrong with you, Alex?_

_Just . . . just make it stop,_ Alex whispered.

_Make what stop?_

_You won,_ Alex explained. The tension was rising in his voice _. You said it would stop. Make it stop._

Gabriel realized what he meant. He crouched in front of the boy and gave condescension: _Alex, listen. I can use my energies either to ease your pain, or to get your spirit back in your flesh. That way, you do not die. Which would you prefer?_

Alex's face twisted. He gave a shudder, then launched straight for him. His eyes were wild, his hands shaking as they grappled at Gabriel's shoulders. There was a keen, desperate edge to his shout: _You said you'd make it stop! Said you_ would not lie _to me, Gabriel! But it didn't stop! It didn't stop! Didn't_ fucking stop _!_ The last two words were a shriek.

Gabriel was taken aback. He took the lunge easily, but the raw emotion was unexpected. It struck him mind-to-mind without a firm barrier between, causing him to jerk back sharply. There came an icy blast of pain, blended with betrayal so bitter it made Gabriel choke.

_Stop!_ Gabriel reached out for Alex's cheek, as if to calm him.

Alex screamed: _Don't mind-fuck me, Gabriel, just fucking fix me! Fix me!_ Fix me _god damn you!_

Gabriel gritted his teeth and connected deeper. Alex's mind was scrambling and feral, snarling like an animal caught in an awful leg-hold trap. The boy was now clawing at the edge of madness, or perhaps it was clawing at him. The moment Gabriel reached in, Alex lashed out, dragging broken bones across him, digging at Gabriel with crusted fingernails. Gabriel got a full dose of what filled Alex, and it left him sick: Hours of unrelenting agony. The crushing weight of helplessness, left to bleed, trapped, stripped of control. Dying. Not just dying, but _left_ to die. Abandoned.

Gabriel pulled back, gasping. He shoved Alex against the wall and watched him writhe. Humans could only take so much, and Gabriel had unintentionally pushed this one far, far past his limit.

Gabriel averted his face, feeling a wave of disgust. In his concern to keep the flesh intact, he had possibly ruined the mind. He let the boy go. Alex howled, ironically leaning against him for support, and began to beat him with both fists.

_Be still!_

Alex ignored him. Gabriel was the only thing here he could fight, and if he were going to die—or go mad—he was going to fight something.

Gabriel hadn't the heart to crush or pin him, to force him not to move or speak. Such harsh control had led to this state in the first place. Instead, he wrapped both wings around the human, as if embracing him in a dark-feathered hug—a hug, yes, except his feathers were unsheathed. This was to contain and train, not necessarily comfort Alex. If the boy jerked back, he would slice himself to ribbons.

_Be still,_ Gabriel repeated in a deadly serious tone.

To Gabriel's surprise, immediately Alex went quiet. He clung to Gabriel, trembling. After a second, he pressed his clammy forehead to Gabriel's chest.

_Can the mere touch of my wings do that?_ Gabriel marveled. _Or was it, instead, the commmand?_

As Alex went quiet, Gabriel felt the muscles in his back and shoulders relax. Each feather gave a steely hiss as it resheathed itself in soft fibers. He closed his eyes. Alex remained still, pressed against him, sedate—dare he even say, submissive? __

In a low voice, Gabriel spoke: _I promised you I would make the pain stop. And I will. But I am using every ounce of strength I possess to keep your body alive._

_Lies,_ whispered Alex.

_No._ Cautiously, Gabriel wrapped one arm around the boy's shivering shoulders. _One more try, Alex. I will open the gate. Noma is there, to help you through._

_Noma._ Alex breathed the word as if it were something he never could have. __

_Yes. Get into your flesh, and then, I swear—I_ swear _to you—I can and will dedicate my energy to heal you. Deal?_

Alex shuddered. _Your deals are no good!_ he wept.

Gabriel's tone became coaxing again: _Alex. One more try. Noma is there._

_One more. . . ._

_One more,_ Gabriel reassured him. _Let's go._

"What's taking so long?" came Noma's call from the physical realm. Impatience warred with concern in her voice, and also in her expression, when Gabriel looked.

"He merely needed encouragement," the Archangel told her.

"Alex never needs encouragement about _anything_."

Gabriel took a deep breath. "I am going to open the gate, now. Be prepared to sustain it. Alex!" He reached inward, again. _Alex, pay attention. You need to step forward._

Alex had mistrust in his eyes, again. He could not "step forward," exactly, but he hunched over and dragged himself painfully to the spot where Gabriel waited, near the broken wall. There he hugged himself and sank into a crouch. As Gabriel began to work, Alex stared around with wary gaze, unable to see anything past the wall.

Gabriel opened the gate, there at the edge of the rubble. It was a complex working, and a beautiful one if he did say so, himself. It entwined the mind, spirit, and flesh of a given individual so that energies could pass freely between. To Alex, it probably looked like arching, interwoven beams of spectral colors twisting to form a tunnel, with brilliant white rays illuminating the end. To Gabriel, it looked like ten thousand years of practice.

"Noma?" the Archangel prompted quietly. He was glad this was nearly over; the gate had taken the last of his strength.

"Got it," she replied.

Gabriel felt her slip into his work. He held it in place until he was certain—absolutely certain—that she had a firm and substantial grip on it. Then he let go, hoping she knew exactly how to sustain it. It was not nearly as hard to maintain as to create. Still, this was not something he trusted just anyone with, and Alex's life literally depended on her, now. If the gate snapped while Alex was in it, his spirit would be propelled into the Aether.

"Call him," Gabriel murmured to Noma.

Quickly Gabriel reached for Alex's body. It would take another donation of his life-force to bolster the flesh while Alex reentered. Otherwise the shock probably would kill it.

He concentrated, feeling exhaustion whisper through every hidden nook. In the background he could hear Noma encouraging Alex, who of course never needed encouragement. He trickled precious life-force into the human's body. It flowed from him like blood. Alex's skin was starting to flush. His heartbeat was strengthening. The breath was getting deeper, sweet air filling the lungs. He took it in, feeling the lungs expand, the chest rise. It was a rush, this breathing, this easy sinking into welcoming flesh.

The next thing he knew, he was absolutely _tiny_. His eyes were blurred, he could barely hear, and everything felt halfway numb. He was staring up at a familiar ceiling, though, and a woman's soft body was pressed against him. She pulled at his head and pressed round, full lips against his: exquisite lips, the kind that melded with his as only a woman's could. His body awakened; not everything was numb! He tried to push against her, but found he lacked the strength. She smiled and tugged him into a sitting position, but he slipped back a moment later.

His head hurt. And it was . . . empty, very quiet in here. Something was terribly wrong. He struggled to focus around him.

". . . think he passed out," the woman was saying. "We can slip out the balcony, if you can make your legs work, Alex."

"He's still here," he heard himself say. "Just confused."

"How do you know?"

"I can hear him. Gimme a sec."

Something was definitely backwards about this. Gabriel was so exhausted that thought seeped like oil through thick layers of mud. He gave up and let himself rest for several minutes. Then a hand brushed his shoulder.

_You promised,_ came a familiar voice. It sounded very tense.

He turned to find those haunted blue eyes staring at him again. His gaze swept down to find broken bones, ripped skin, and a drying tapestry of blood. That was when his mind clicked back together, in awkward chunks.

_Oh, fuck me,_ he groaned. _Tell me I did not just—_

_Follow me into my body,_ Alex affirmed _. Now, tell me you can get out._

_I can. I just have to rest. The gate drained me, that's all. I became disoriented._

Alex stiffened. _Rest? You promised!_

Gabriel swept that aside. _I can rest and give healing._ He sat down where he was—some formless, blank area somewhere in Alex's conscious mind—and gestured for Alex to join him. _Look, I'll give you wing-love for now. Ask Noma to give you the same, out there. But don't tell her I'm giving you. . . . Look, just tell her to do it._

_Fine._ There came a pause. _Noma says she's going to handcuff you to the bed._

_Tell her she'd better not, unless it involves fellatio. And I want to be present for that._

_Um, alright._

In the distance, vaguely, Gabriel heard Noma shout. It did not sound like joyful acceptance of his proposal.

_Remind her she is bound not to harm me._ Gabriel was never so glad to have made such a vow in his life.

Alex sat down beside him, uneasily. The floor here was strangely soft, a neutral gray color. _Can't you make blankets or something? You created a whip._

_I can. When I am not so exhausted._ Gabriel lay flat on his back. He stretched out his wings to either side and stared up at nothing. The ceiling was as formless and gray as the floor and walls. _I feel like such a whore._

_You feel like a whore? What about me?_ Alex cautiously eased down on Gabriel's right wing, close to but not touching his body. 

_Come partake of my wares, as I lie splayed open for you._ Gabriel folded his arms under his head and lay with his legs parted. He was still naked, of course. And the idea of being used like a whore was at once unsettling and, well, rather intriguing actually. It depended on who was doing the using, to be flatly honest. Someone like Brother, pinning his wrists, holding him down and claiming him, now, that might be worth a decent scene. Not Alex, though, that was not exciting. The idea of yielding to a human made him gag.

Feeling Alex's weight settle on his wing was unusual. For one thing, the boy was jittery. He shifted and curled on his side, rocked himself, and dug his broken ribs into Gabriel's feathers.

Gabriel reached for him but he skittered away, unwilling to trust even a caress at this point. So Gabriel turned slowly onto his own side, facing the boy. _Alex. Be still._

He coupled that with the descent of his opposite wing, like the slow settling of a sooty down comforter across smashed porcelain finery. Only then, as it fell across him, did Alex go still. He rested his cheek on Gabriel's lower wing and gazed at him through glazed, dark-shadowed eyes.

_There's a good boy,_ Gabriel whispered.

Now he could run his hands across those broken ribs. Exhausted, god yes, he was exhausted. But it cost him nothing to let the boy absorb the radiance of his wings and the gentleness of a touch. It used no energy—or very little—for him to reach into the boy, grasp hold of broken parts, and knit those back together. Alex was linked with him, now. He could do this almost as if the energy were his own. He nudged bone into place, fused it, and smoothed skin back where it belonged.

Alex's eyes drifted shut. The constant stream of anguish began to fade. Glad for that, Gabriel allowed himself to relax, too. He could rest and do this at the same time. Perhaps.

Alex's words stirred like the barest hint of breeze: _Oh god, I thought it would never come._ An immense wave of relief rippled across them both. A single tear moistened the corner of Alex's eye, stretching to encompass Gabriel's feathers. __

Gently Gabriel gathered it on one finger. _You see? I do not lie to you, Alex. Sometimes my promises get delayed. That is all._

_I swore you were torturing me to death._

_Not at all the plan._

Alex's next words were a whisper: _No more, Gabriel._

_We will rest awhile,_ Gabriel promised.

Those haunted eyes turned upon his face. _I'll do what you want. Alright? Just no more._

Gabriel realized that was as close to complete surrender as he would ever get, from Alex. Moved, he reached out to stroke the boy's hair. He truly had won, and the hollowness in those eyes was testament to how completely. _I said we will rest. Do not fear._

As Gabriel worked, the tension slowly melted from the human's anguished form. Gabriel kept knitting and smoothing broken parts, using skills similar to those he had used for the gate. It wasn't easy, and he really should have waited until he had recovered. But Alex had waited too long already, and Gabriel had done unspeakable harm. Father would demand that he fix this. The damage—both physical and psychological—was directly and irrefutably his fault.

Alex began to see that the wounds really were healing. He was actually pushing into Gabriel's touch, now, urging his hand toward the shattered bones which broke the surface. It hurt of course, but a few minutes later, that went away. Alex lay gritting his teeth through it, then gasping as the pain dissolved.

It was hard to concentrate, but Gabriel kept going. Every time a shattered bone reformed under his hand, he felt a thrill of success. Mind you, this was only energy, not flesh. It would have been a hundred times harder, otherwise. But he would take what victory he could, at this point.

Alex crept a little closer to him with each successful healing, as if by proximity he might get more of what he so desperately needed. By the time it was done, he was pressed so close to Gabriel's body that his cheek no longer rested on Gabriel's wing, but against his chest and outstretched arm.

Gabriel's breath stirred in his dark blond curls. There was a certain peace that followed healing. He liked to indulge in it. Thick and sweet.

Alex became increasingly aware of their proximity, though, as the healing faded. He started to pull back, but Gabriel caught him by the wrist.

_You said you would do what I want,_ Gabriel reminded him.

Alex hesitated. _Is this what you want?_

Gabriel thought about it. _I want a lot more than that._ He tilted his hips, allowing his genitals to slide down his thigh.

Alex's breath caught.

But then, Gabriel chuckled. His tone became self-mocking: _I need a nap first. And so do you._

Alex was tense again. So Gabriel stroked him with his top wing, gliding long feathers across the curves of his thigh, buttock and calf. _Shhh, Alex. Relax._

There was one word on Alex's mind, and that word was "rape." He stared it straight into Gabriel's eyes, knowing Gabriel could pick it up from his thoughts. Gabriel stared right back.

_That's an ugly word, Alex. Let's avoid it, shall we?_

_You're the one with your dick hanging out._

_And you'll note that it's_ hanging _. Hm?_ Gabriel gave him a significant look.

Alex was the first to look away. _I just—_

_Don't want to be raped. Obviously. Well, typically, who does?_ Gabriel amended that: _Outside of a well-placed scene, of course._

Alex exhaled. Gabriel watched him, perceiving where his thoughts went. The boy knew he had no bargaining position. He had nothing. He could only _beg_ for Gabriel not to violate him, at this point, and he was so beaten down that even begging seemed an option.

So Gabriel let him go. It was an act of mercy, in an evening full of such.

_I won't rape you, Alex._

Alex was understandably skeptical.

_Raping is so sixth century. I prefer my partners willing. Completely under my control, mind you, but willing._

_And if I'm not willing?_

_You said you'd do as I wanted,_ Gabriel reminded him.

_So it's a Catch-22,_ Alex concluded. _I won't get raped but I'm forced to cooperate._

Gabriel gave him a smile. _Smart boy._

Alex started to wriggle backwards, but Gabriel slipped an arm around his waist. _No, no, Alex. Stay here. I want you to get used to the heat of my body._ To soften the capture, though, he wrapped both wings around the boy.

Alex looked distinctly unhappy, crushed close like that. Gabriel chuckled.

_Am I hurting you, Alex?_

_No._

_Then relax. You've been assured I won't rape you, and all I want right now is a nap. I've just given you a lifetime's worth of healing, and you are wrapped tight as a burrito in my wings. I don't even have the blades unsheathed. What do you have to complain about?_

Gradually Alex's muscles did unwind.

_Besides,_ Gabriel whispered, _if you close your eyes, I bet you'll find I feel a lot like Michael._

_Don't,_ Alex mumbled.

_Noma, then?_

Alex's cheeks turned pink.

That was when Gabriel took a peek to see what Alex's body was doing. Noma had pulled Alex on top of her and wrapped her smaller wings tight around Alex's body. Those delightful small breasts were pressed so sweetly against his chest, with the nipples poking pertly against him. Her legs were wrapped closely around his thighs, so that he could feel the warmth between them rubbing his scrotum.

_Oh, she's delicious,_ Gabriel murmured.

_She will eat you,_ Alex warned. _Something about female angels, they're vicious._

_Alex,_ laughed Gabriel, _there's no such thing as a "female" angel. Or male, for that matter; Father made us flexible that way._ He looked down in amusement. _The next time she comes to Earth, she might very well choose a penis._

The look Alex gave him was priceless.  
  
---


	7. The Promised Shower Scene

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Okay it's still not sex but it's ALMOST sex.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rated NC-17 for hand-job goodness. Also naked Noma. Also Alex and Gabriel with erections. YAY!
> 
> See, you thought it would never come :P  
> So did Gabriel.

**Chapter 7**

Gabriel drowsily rose into thick semiconsciousness. He was comfortable. He was warm. A familiar, hard body was curled with the crescent of his form, giving contact in all the right places. Joy lit him as he realized who it was. He dragged his cheek across Michael's, giving a sleepy sigh.

The other murmured and shifted. Gabriel began to rock subtly, dragging the first flush of morning arousal across the other's thigh. His lips sought the pulse-point of that elegant throat. Reverently he kissed, immersing himself as was custom in the sweet, enthralling current of their mutual bond. Adoration—so intense it eclipsed all else—began to flow through him, thick as any honey.

_Michael,_ he sent, trying to complete the link. The connection fell short, so he reached out drowsily, pushing the signal farther: _Michael._

_What in hell do you want?_ Brother's voice was striking, caustic.

Gabriel jolted fully awake. He found himself naked in his quarters, with Michael's favorite pet and lieutenant in bed. Even better? He was handcuffed to the headboard. Simply perfect, should Michael care to glance through his eyes. Gabriel closed them, swearing inwardly.

"Welcome back," came Noma's growl. "Having fun?"

Gabriel ignored her. It was Michael who needed attention. Something was wrong. _Brother,_ he sent, _are you well?_

_Why would you care?_ was the bitter response.

"Noma, the key," Gabriel prompted. "Top drawer of the nightstand."

"Get it yourself," she sniped.

That was when Gabriel realized it was Alex cuddled up against him. It had been Alex whom he had kissed and nuzzled, while half-asleep. Noma had obviously been watching.

Gabriel groaned. "Noma, don't make me break the cuffs. They are hard to come by."

Noma raised her voice. "Maybe I should tie the key to Alex's dick. You're sure to get it that way."

Alex came awake, at that. "Dick? What?" Abruptly he jerked back, realizing he too had snuggled up to Gabriel while asleep.

Gabriel put on his convincing voice. "Alex, be a dear and fish the handcuff keys out of the nightstand."

"I can barely feel my hands."

"You only slept a few hours," Noma pointed out. "It will take longer than that to recover from a coma."

Gabriel was grappling for patience. These handcuffs were specially-made to hold angels. He did _not_ want to ruin them. And Noma was being unnecessarily jealous. Meanwhile, he still had to deal with Brother. He reached out again, sweeping his mind across the distance between them.

_Brother, what is the matter?_

_Go away, Gabriel. If I want you, I will call._

Stung, Gabriel retreated for now, but he vowed to pursue this again soon. He turned his frown on Noma. "Release me," he ordered.

Her retort was harsh: "Can we talk about what you did to Alex?"

"I'd rather not." Alex's voice was low. He rolled toward the nightstand but found Noma in the way. "Nomes, get the goddamn keys."

She was incredulous: "You're just going to let him get away with this?"

"Don't have a choice." Alex was struggling to reach past her and get the drawer open. It was clear his strength had not yet returned fully. Part of that, no doubt, was the psychological impact of having everything shattered in a mind-world.

Gabriel sighed and switched tactics. "Well, if you insist on keeping me captive, Noma, you could at least deliver that fellatio I requested. Hm?" He looked up at her with a hopeful expression.

She rolled out of bed. "Don't push it."

"I found it a perfectly reasonable request, under the circumstances."

She picked up the candelabra and swung it above the bed.

"Okay, now!" yelped Alex, as dripping wax fell on his back rather than on Gabriel. "Let's put down the candles."

"Now we're talking." Gabriel smirked. "You make such a cute Domme, Noma. Do you put him in a collar and spank him, too?"

Noma whirled the candelabra threateningly near Gabriel's genitals. Gabriel leaned back, taking a breath. Well, if he got burned, he might as well try to enjoy it. At the very least it was worth teasing her.

"Keys," muttered Alex, and slid into the floor so he could dig in the drawer. " _Light_ , Noma. Some of us can't see in the dark!"

Gabriel shrugged, mock-pouting at Noma. "The boy can't see."

"He won't want to see what I'm about to do," she growled.

"Jesus Christ." Alex hid his head in his hands. "Both of you just _cut it out_!" __

"He's getting religion." Gabriel used his best taunting tone. "You ought to stop."

Noma didn't respond. She clunked the candelabra back in place and crouched down beside Alex. "Hey. What's the matter?" she murmured. "I've never seen you this easily stressed. You okay?"

"No," mumbled Alex. "Just get the goddamn keys."

Noma dug the keys from the drawer and flung them hard enough to gouge Gabriel's belly. He steeled himself not to cringe; two inches lower and that would have really stung.

"Oh that's _nice_ , Noma," he exclaimed. "A lot of good they do me, while I'm handcuffed!"

Noma's attention was on Alex, though. "What'd he do to you?" Her arm went around Alex's shoulders, but he shrugged it off. "Alex?"

"Don't want to talk about it," Alex muttered.

He didn't, but Noma certainly did. Gabriel observed the two of them from his spot on the bed. She was angry, so angry on so many levels. It would have been delightful, had Gabriel not currently been trapped in this rather awkward situation. Alex was, after all, _hers_ in more than one sense: hers to watch, hers to protect, and hers to screw. He had definitely stepped on this Higher Angel's territory, and she was letting him know it.

Not that he actually _cared_ that much, mind you. He had his business with Alex, and he would complete such no matter who it pissed off. If he feared every angel who gave him dark glances, he would hardly be much of an Archangel, now, would he?

Gabriel paused to blow errant hair out of his eyes.

Well, Miss Angry Eyebrows was certainly making her opinion clear, tonight. The glowers she shot over Alex's lowered head could have set Gabriel on fire, had that been her specialty. Alas for Noma, it was not.

Well, time to put his foot down. Gabriel reached his mind out, but spoke before taking action: "Alex, come."

Alex stiffened, breath stilling in his chest. Gabriel raised an eyebrow. He was not inclined to wait. A moment later he slid across the boy's mind like silk across cotton, preparing to impose control.

Immediately Alex's mental cry erupted: _Don't!_ _Please, don't. Not in front of her._

Gabriel paused. Alex's voice sounded strained, as if he'd been pushed too hard, but Gabriel had barely nudged him at all.

_Fine,_ he assented, _I won't take control if you come now._

Alex struggled to his feet. Noma's eyes widened as Alex answered Gabriel's call without a word of protest. He simply poured himself into the bed beside the Archangel, body pooled in the satin, gaze downcast and spilling unease.

"Good boy," Gabriel whispered, knowing those words were daggers to her. They possibly were daggers to Alex, too, but no matter. Gabriel wanted to train him, and positive reinforcement was part of that. "Take the keys and free me."

Alex struggled with them. He bared his teeth for a moment as they slipped from his grasp, jangling on Gabriel's arms. "Damn it!"

_Patience,_ Gabriel guided him. _I know, your fingers are slightly numb. Give over to me. I can do it._

_Don't want to._ Alex kept struggling.

Gabriel let reproval creep into his tone: _Alex._

Alex fumbled and dropped the keys again. So Gabriel reached in and took over. Alex's spirit rose up against him, of course—immediate defiance—but Gabriel simply pushed him back down. It was easy, now. Laughably easy, except Gabriel had the grace not to laugh. Instead, once Alex had gone still again, Gabriel petted his hair to reassure him.

Positive reinforcement. Father would be pleased.

This was the first time Gabriel had taken partial control while leaving Alex mostly unbridled. He had thought Alex might be at least a bit comfortable with it, but that was not the case. As soon as Gabriel took over his hands, Alex jerked physically as if burned. A warning from the Archangel brought him back:

_Stay where I put you. Or I'll take full control._

_This is awful,_ Alex told him.

For answer, Gabriel pressed both of Alex's tingling hands together. _I am neither hurting nor harming you, Alex. Am I holding your hands to that candle flame? Am I slicing your flesh on my wings? No. This is where you learn to trust me._

_I will never learn to trust you, no matter what you do._

_Then we definitely have a problem._ Gabriel went about unlocking the cuffs. It was challenging without much sensation, but not much more challenging than operating a remote body from hundreds of miles away.

The moment the cuffs opened, Gabriel let go. He breathed in silken tones: "Do you see how easy that was?"

Alex retreated to the farthest part of the bed. His hands were rubbing together as if reassuring themselves they were intact. "Just leave me alone," he whispered.

Gabriel gave him a reproving glance, but let him go.

  
  
  


* * *

  
  


"Come on, Alex. Let's see if you can walk."

Gabriel left the pair of them on his bed. Noma seemed convinced that Alex was not fully back in his body until the numbness was gone. Gabriel knew better. Alex was locked in.

In fairness, Noma lacked the advantage Gabriel had. He could _see_ Alex in a way she never would: every thought flitting across his mind, every surge in his spirit, every single glow of life passing through organs and skin.

_Then again, half those "glows of life" in him now are mine._ Gabriel glanced at the pair from within the bathroom, recalling his endless hours of playing nanny. Exhaustion still whispered deep in his core—never before had he donated so much life-force—but rest would even it out. In the meantime, he would care for his own body's needs.

He had lit more candles on his way here, and the effect was striking. Alex's blue eyes had huge dark circles under them. His skin was pale, and he sat slightly hunched, as if his body remembered the torture. Every time Gabriel tried to catch his gaze, it jittered away. There was damage, there, that would take some undoing. More damage than some broken bones and blood loss.

_Are you hurting, my pet?_ he wondered. _Even after all that healing I gave, you still need more._

He swept his eye across the energy filling Alex. It was at once bright and dim, like spotty clouds seen when the sun hides within them. The shining portions, including those he gave, mingled and flowed freely with the darker ones in an endless, rhythmic churn. This was the breath and pulse of existence which Father had set in motion. From the very first, passed down from flesh to flesh to flesh, stirring in each sequentially until it settled at last in this beaten, traumatized boy.

And now it was his. His to take care of, to spoil, or destroy. Or any combination thereof.

Gabriel turned on the shower. If they decided to kill him while his back was turned, so be it. They hadn't killed him while he slept. And he needed to wash his hair. Plus, the hot water was glorious, after being trapped in bed forever.

To his mild surprise, Noma did approach. She stood just outside the shower, leaning with her fist on one hip. He eyed her supple figure, allowing the water to pour down his front. It was not often an attractive female watched him bathe.

"May I help you, Noma?" He kept his voice mild.

"What'd you do to him?" Her voice was tight.

"I linked with him." Gabriel reached for the shampoo.

Her voice fell to a hiss. "We both know you did more. What did you _do_ to him, Gabriel?"

Gabriel lathered his hair. He did not stare at her, but she stared at him. He half-turned to gesture toward Alex. "Why, what is the matter with him?"

"Don't pull that shit." She stepped into the shower to confront him. Gabriel watched in bemusement as the water made her nipples harden.

_Entertainment as well as beratement. I should suffer so every day._

Dimly he felt a query stir from Alex's direction: _What?_

_Not talking to you, Alex; thinking to myself. You may rest. Unless you'd like a shower?_

_Need one,_ Alex acknowledged blearily. __

_Do join us, then. Noma's decided to yell at me in here._

"I don't know what you did," Noma growled, "but you _broke_ him!"

"He needed some attitude adjustment," Gabriel acknowledged. "He will heal. They always do."

"Attitude adjustment?" She pointed at Alex. "Look at him!"

Gabriel didn't have to. He had already seen the wreckage. Gabriel continued to lather his hair with a calm expression.

"He's the Chosen One, Gabriel. He's supposed to be a great leader. I can't even get him to look me in the face, right now."

"He'll be fine," Gabriel scoffed. _Perhaps after I superglue him back together._

"So that's it then?" she demanded. Water was beading up on her lashes, but she was a long way from crying. "This is just some game to you. Take over Alex, crush him and fuck him until he doesn't know up from down."

Gabriel stepped forward to let the water rinse soap from his hair. In doing so, he bumped his chest against her breasts. She shoved him, but he stood his ground looking amused.

"He's not a fucking pet for you!" she snarled.

He smirked down at her. "Well, he was not. _Now_ he is."

Her eyes narrowed as Gabriel's words sank in. She barely contained her rage: "You know plenty about pets, don't you, Gabriel? Everybody knows you were Michael's damn _dog_! Followed him around on a leash!"

He sucked in a breath of shock. The _gall_ of her! He raised his hand to strike, finding a baleful glare of defiance for target. Just then, though, Alex stumbled into the shower, all unsteady on his feet and slipping in slickness. Gabriel grimaced, annoyed, but realized Alex was trying to follow instructions. So instead, he reached for the boy, pushing Noma aside in the process.

Instinctively Alex shrank back. Gabriel's grimace became a scowl. _Be still, Alex._

_I'm fine,_ was the boy's reply. As if he had not just cringed from Gabriel's touch.

Noma cleared her throat, regaining her composure. "I refuse to let you make him a zombie hand-puppet."

Gabriel's voice was cold: "Calm yourself, Noma." He handed Alex the good sandalwood soap, since obviously the boy was going to be in his private quarters for some time. He might as well smell acceptable. "Alex is a long way from 'zombie'."

Alex promptly dropped the soap. Then could not pick it up. He fumbled with it awkwardly, trying to make his fingers work.

Noma gestured at Alex in frustration, teeth bared at Gabriel.

Gabriel gave a sigh. "Alex? Relax." He reached out through Alex's body to see what was going on. "The extremities are still a bit numb, that's all. Rub him and let the warm water awaken him. He will be fine."

"You say that like all your linked victims go comatose."

"Mm. I will admit he is a first."

Noma began vigorously rubbing Alex's arms as if he were covered in muck. The harder she rubbed him, it seemed, the better he would recover. But Gabriel knew that was not so. He could feel, through his wide-open link with Alex, those sharp tugs dragging across the skin as sensation began to return.

_Do you intend to let her do that?_ he inquired curiously.

_It's Noma,_ was Alex's apologetic reply. _She means well._

_At this rate she will scrub the markings off you._

Finally Gabriel could not stand it. He clasped his hand around her wrist—earning himself a piercing look—and said, in a low voice, "Like this."

Gabriel worked the soap into a fine, aromatic lather with very gradual, circular strokes across Alex's palm. Using a light touch, he glided his hand up the curve of Alex's skin. He followed the lines of lean muscle, trailing along the forearm, the elbow, and the bicep. At length he stepped closer, allowing his hand to pass over Alex's shoulder. He slid his fingers into the crease of his clavicle.

"Do you see?" he murmured. Alex turned his face toward Gabriel. His eyes were uncertain, but . . . yes, just a little intrigued. Gabriel gave a dark smile.

Next, he stepped behind the boy, dragged lingering fingers across his back, and slid down the other arm. All the while he kept the strokes slow and smooth, the lather strong. He made no pretense that this was an intensely sensuous—if not outright sensual—act. He pressed close behind Alex, letting the first whisper of his arousal touch the back of Alex's leg.

Alex's voice came immediately to his mind: _Is that—?_

_Mm-hm._

_Oh, god,_ groaned Alex.

_Stay._

Noma was glaring at him again.

"Wash him like that," Gabriel instructed her. "You don't need to scrub the boy to death."

Noma actually blushed. "What are you. . . ? I'm not . . . gonna wash him like that, in front of _you_!"

Gabriel gave her his best smile. He worked his way to Alex's chest, smearing the fragrant soap in broad swaths across Alex's nipples. To his delight, they went pert for him.

As he worked, Gabriel began to let the promised healing flow from himself into Alex. This time, it was physical. He massaged Alex's tingling hands and wrists, returning sensation to each. He eased tension in the shoulders and neck, blocked a headache, and removed the phantom pain from ribs that never actually were broken. It was easy through the link, just a matter of shutting off sensation and restoring it elsewhere.

The relief was not lost on Alex. Eventually he began to groan, leaning back into Gabriel's chest. "Thank god."

"Alex," Noma objected. Her eyes went from Alex's face to Gabriel's, back and forth, as if rightfully expecting an outburst or struggle.

Alex just wanted the healing. He wanted the mercy so badly, he was willing to press against Gabriel and take whatever attentions Gabriel gave. Gabriel did not have to force him, or take over his flesh to make him do it. He worked his hands across Alex's skin, breathing in the rich sandalwood aroma. He gave a flood of healing to Alex's battered spirit and flesh, and Alex took every bit of it.

_This is not so bad, is it?_ Gabriel whispered to him. He soaped up Alex's belly to the navel, giving those same slow, sensual circles.

_Not bad, no._ Alex's eyes slipped shut. _Much better than getting kicked in the ribs._

"Alex!" Noma called again.

_Tell her it's okay,_ Gabriel suggested.

Alex hesitated. _Is it okay?_

Gabriel paused, then spoke in his most convincing voice: _I think it's fine_. He rubbed slightly lower, past the navel.

"What would Michael say?" Noma demanded.

"He would say, 'pass him this way when you're done,'" Gabriel informed her. He gazed at her over Alex's shoulder. She was gritting her teeth.

Alex leaned heavily against his chest. He was starting to stir as Gabriel's lathered hand grazed the base of his organ, over and over. He was uneasy, yes, but also aroused.

Noma just stared, now, in ire and dismay. "You're forcing him," she accused. "Through the link."

Gabriel shook his head. It was a semi-truth—the link did make Alex more inclined to submit to such, but he was not exerting any overt control. He slipped his free arm around Alex's waist, holding him closer.

"You are welcome to participate, Noma," he invited her. "Or you can always go back to your cell."

Her mouth tightened to a small, furious line. "You can go to hell!"

"I don't think so."Gabriel completed the trip down Alex's belly, following the trail of wiry, golden curls. He stroked the root of Alex's cock in gentle, teasing circles. _Do you want this, Alex?_

Alex shifted uncertainly in his arms. _Do I?_ It was still a question to him; he wasn't sure. But he was hardening rapidly, his organ lifting in the shower spray.

_Do you?_ Gabriel was not used to giving humans choices. But there was that whole "free will" thing they were supposed to honor. And he had made a point to Noma about _not_ controlling Alex. _I think you want this, don't you, Alex? I certainly do._

Alex still hesitated, so Gabriel gave him not control, but a rush of his own, heady arousal: the fierce, almost predatory excitement at having Alex so close and so utterly, hopelessly under his command; the undeniable swell of his heavy organ against Alex's moist, firm backside; and the overtaking desire to clasp, claim, and caress him into carnal, animalistic bliss.

Faced with that, Alex crumbled like clay. He gave a shudder and groaned: _Yes._

_Good boy._

Gabriel clasped the human's hovering organ in a well-lathered hand. He began very slowly to milk it to full, thick hardness.

Immediately Alex moaned. He arched into the contact, pelvis lifting, legs parting wide as if offering himself. It was sweet, utter surrender, and Gabriel suspected strongly it was a trained response.

_Oh that's nice,_ he purred _._ He pressed himself against Alex's left buttock, letting the boy feel his response. Alex made a gasp but his erection did not falter; he was pushing into Gabriel's hand, now, breath coming in quick pants, heart pounding in rapid cadence.

_Pretty boy. Part your legs a little more for me._ Gabriel kissed his shoulder, which had been rinsed free of soap by the shower.

Alex made another sound, a mixture Gabriel interpreted to be arousal mid-murdering distress. Regardless, the boy did not obey, but shuddered in the denial. ****

Gabriel was so captivated by Alex, he barely had the presence of mind to smirk at Noma. When he did, he found her very close to the limit of her tolerance. He had almost beaten her, too. At least for today.

_Tell her you want it,_ he whispered to Alex.

"Oh, fuck yes, I want it," groaned Alex aloud.

Then Gabriel did smirk. And Noma just . . . stared at him, as if he were some otherworldly beast who had made its way to earth by vile means. She had nothing to say.

Yes, that was enough for today. No need to make her watch the rest. Gabriel reached out. _Nero? Accompany Noma back to her cell. She is in my private quarters._

Meanwhile, there was Alex. Gabriel worked his hand up and down the darkly-blushed shaft. It had filled out well in his hand. He worked down to the knob of the head, letting it slide across the knuckles of his palm several times before resting a moment in the padded center. Alex writhed, rubbing himself against it.

The human was well-formed. He had a good flare, plus sensitive tip. Gabriel liked that. He dragged his thumb across the slit, evoking more delightful moans, before going back to clasp the shaft like a sleeve. Up and down he glided, letting the suds and warm water do much of the work. He observed through Alex's senses, drinking in the pleasure from Alex's point of view.

Against him, though, Alex soon began to buck. He pushed harder into Gabriel's hand, which was a no-no. Gabriel gripped him, holding him in place. "Patience," he instructed.

"No," Alex objected quietly.

"Patience." Gabriel kept his hand and voice firm. "Keep still, and I will let you finish."

"Don't stop." Alex's voice was a whisper.

"Now, what did I just say?"

Grudgingly, Alex made himself keep still. Gabriel made him wait several seconds, then added more soap and resumed stroking. Alex arched against him again, but did not buck. Instead, he bit his lip and squeezed his eyes shut.

"There's a good boy." Gabriel dragged his eyes away from Alex's straining cock to Noma. Sweet, territorial Noma. She was glaring as if she wished she could gut him. Oh, how she wanted to kill him. This was fantastic.

_That is the last time you will call me a dog._

Poor Alex. He was trying so hard not to buck. His pelvis was jolting and he was fighting it, so badly. Gabriel rested his chin on the boy's shoulder, smiling and watching Noma. He could smell the precome spilling across his hand, mixing with the exotic sandalwood. Now and then he glanced down—he really could not help himself—to watch Alex's straining cock, swollen so dark and desperate in his hand. He found he really loved this.

Now, to put the icing on the cake. Still staring at Noma, Gabriel whispered in the human's ear: "Come for me, Alex."

Her face crumpled. She turned her back on them, even before Alex began to pant and jerk. As he did, Gabriel loosened his grip. Ah, the familiar smell of human seed. Off-white spatters of pearl splashed the shower floor and were instantly washed into the drain.

Alex shivered. He melted against Gabriel, gripping his hip as if seeking support. Gabriel gave him the luxury of both arms around his waist.

_Not so bad, hm?_ Gabriel chuckled.

Alex was regaining his breath, along with his composure. _Oh my god, what did I do?_

Gabriel laughed out loud. "Put your clothes on, Noma."

The words had an effect on Alex. His eyes opened and his body straightened. "Noma?"

"You are so lucky you bound me," she whispered in a shaky voice. "Otherwise, your head would be through that wall."

"You were invited to join," Gabriel told her flatly.

"He's human, Gabriel. What do you want with him, anyway?"

"I've no idea," admitted Gabriel. "But it's fun to watch him squirm."

"You've broken him and now you're raping him." She dragged a towel ferociously across herself.

"It isn't rape if he wants it."

Alex took a step toward her, hand outstretched. "Noma—"

"Down!" barked Gabriel, and Alex's legs gave way beneath him. He shot a shocked look at Gabriel but said nothing.

Noma visibly flinched. "Just like he wants that, right?"

Gabriel stepped past Alex. He scooped Noma's clothes from the floor and tossed them to her, just as Nero knocked on the door. "Back to your cell."

"I hope Father does come back," she snarled at him. "I hope he sees what you've done. I hope he castrates you, Gabriel."

Gabriel's eyes narrowed. He wanted to shout: "I've just spent all day and night giving my life-force for this beast to live! He's _mine_." But instead, he just pointed to the door.

Noma pulled on her clothes. She went to the bathroom to hug Alex, to kiss him and fuss over him and whisper in his ear. Gabriel could hear it all, of course. How Alex could not give up hope. How he had to hold on and be strong. How he could not let Gabriel take over his mind completely.

Gabriel sipped his wine. Once Noma had gone, he reached out mentally to Alex.

_Ready for more?_

Alex was miserable and ashamed. _I don't want more._

"Come to bed, Alex."

From the bathroom came the wet slosh of movement. Slowly, a defeated Alex dragged himself toward the bed. "Gabriel, are you about to rape me?"

"Of course not." Gabriel gulped his wine. "Are you going to cooperate?"

"I don't really have a choice, do I?" Alex's eyes had that haunted look again. "Why did you send Noma away?"

Gabriel swirled his wine contemplatively. "She did not want to cooperate."  
  
---


	8. The Forever Coming Sex Scene

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally the sex! Here you will find Gabriel/Alex overlaid with Michael/Gabriel (remembered). There are: (*counts on toes*): hand-jobs/masturbation, fellatio, bondage, asphyxiation, hurt/comfort, rough sex, collars, male nudity and genitalia, a smattering of D/s, and more. (....I ran out of toes.)  
> OH! and also reference to Alex being collared by Michael. That happens off-camera. You can read plenty of other fanfics for that. :)
> 
> Note that Michael in this scene is a rough lover. He is not nice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rated NC-17 for Graphic M/M Sex! Finally! Gabriel/Alex, Michael/Gabriel
> 
> I AM SO SLEEP DEPRIVED OMG  
> I have no idea what I'm typing anymore.
> 
> But Gabriel!Muse says I can sleep, because I gave him sex. YAY!

**Chapter 8**

Alex's skin was warm, freshly-washed, and redolent of sandalwood. Gabriel ran his hands across it gradually, breathing in the scent, taking in the living pulse beneath his sensitive fingertips. This was the way he preferred a human, if he were going to claim one.

That pulse was wild, though, like a rabbit's. Gabriel glided across the flesh, examining his body. There were scars and marks, here and there. A few serious ones. Nice parallel lines where Brother had whipped him. The boy had taken a few punishment _and_ pleasure marks, in his day. Gabriel recognized those well.

Alex lay stiffly as Gabriel had positioned him, half curled on his side, half on his stomach. He kept his head down, his back rigid, the muscles of his sides, shoulders, and thighs tense like wood. All relaxation from the shower had bled from him instantly, the moment Gabriel had placed hands upon him and dragged him to the center of the bed.

Was it fair, to feed from this human's fear? And was "fear" truly the right word to use?

Gabriel pressed closer. Alex's breath caught. Like a rabbit into a bracken, he pushed himself to the mattress as if to hide.

Gabriel scraped his teeth lightly along the back of Alex's neck, taking in a lungful of pheromones. Tension, alertness . . . yes, fear was there. Only the barest hint of arousal, now. He should not have let the boy climax in the shower, but it was well worth the stab at Noma.

"Michael's dog on a leash, indeed," Gabriel muttered. "I've killed for lesser offenses."

Alex turned his head, brow wrinkling. "Is . . . is that what she said?"

"Mm." Gabriel continued to stroke him, admiring the landscape of his musculature beneath the skin. The way his back arched and dipped, how it folded to either side of the spine and followed that seam cleanly down the center. The sleek hills of his buttocks, rising and parting to reveal subterranean delights. He slid a finger between them, only to feel their sudden, terrified grip.

Alex stammered, "I- I wondered how she pissed you off so bad."

"This may surprise you, Alex, but I'm not in a chatty mood." Gabriel shifted upward so that his erection nestled prominently against the warmth of Alex's crevice. He rubbed a few times, delving the head against the human's scrotum for emphasis. He watched in amusement as Alex curled in tighter and clutched the sheets into tight furrows of anguish.

Another waft of pheromones came, a true blast of fear this time, but Gabriel was growing tired of that. There was some fun to be found in torment, but truly he wanted more.

"A leash," Alex gasped, trying again. "Michael doesn't . . . there isn't . . . a leash."

Gabriel paused, about to nibble the back of his neck.

"She meant a collar," Alex guessed. His fists gripping the sheets were turning white.

Gabriel lifted his face with a frown. "Remember what I said about chatty, Alex?" He sat up, digging into the bedside table to find the jar of aromatic ointment he used for lube.

Alex sat up too, giving it one last shot: "The collar, Gabriel. You linked. You know." __

Gabriel did know. That had been one of the first images to strike him, when he'd gone rifling through the human's memories when their link had formed. He knelt on the edge of the bed, tapping the tinny lid of his lube jar.

"What do you want of me, Alex? He's left you. Get over it." The words were unnecessarily harsh, but Gabriel was very low on patience at the moment.

Alex made a muffled sound as if Gabriel had struck him. Gabriel glanced over his shoulder to find the human hugging himself. He really _did_ look as if Gabriel had backhanded him, complete with the bruises under his eyes.

So Gabriel made himself take a deep breath. The boy was confused, right now. Noma was right about one thing: Gabriel had twisted him every which way possible. Alex couldn't even tell if it were right or wrong to get an erection, for Father's sake.

"Come to me, Alex."

"N-no."

Gabriel tilted his head. Coolly he reached out and captured a fistful of hair. He did not have to yank, though; the human moved forward instantly and settled by his side—almost, but not quite, in a kneeling position.

"I know Brother trained you better than this."

Alex didn't answer. His jaw was tight with words he did not or could not say. When Gabriel reached into his mind, all he found was:

_Michael would be pissed. Michael would say just . . . sit. Be quiet._

"Alex!" exclaimed Gabriel in disbelief. "He's _gone_! He _does_ that every now and then! And Father only knows when he'll be back. Twenty years? Two hundred? Vega disappointed him, you disappointed him, and he's gone."

Alex sucked in a breath and jerked away. So Gabriel shifted forward. Pressing long, clawed fingers to that beautifully-inked chest, Gabriel pushed firmly until the boy lay flat upon the mattress. Then he eased over him, wings extending with a rasp. He gazed down into those bewildered, suffering blue eyes. He told Alex:

_Listen to me. Michael is_ gone _. You are mine, now._

Alex stared up at him in shock.Then came a very quiet, unapologetic answer in his mind: _. . . I can't._

The answer was simple, but through their link it was coupled with a flood of why, in full-color, visual memory: Michael, on top of Alex. Michael, gazing down at him. Michael, enfolding him. Michael, filling him. Michael telling him: Alex was _his_. Alex was his own. Alex belonged to Michael.

And Alex would do anything, for Michael.

Gabriel let his eyes trail closed. A low sigh escaped his lips as he realized how deeply bonded Alex was to Michael. He shielded his thoughts and reflected to himself: _You poor, fucking idiot. Do you know how many times I have seen this? And the countless times I've cleaned up the shards when he's left?_

_Not even counting the shards of_ myself _._

Alex lay stiffly, as if expecting some sort of punishment. "You see why," he whispered. "Even if I wanted to—which I don't—I can't be yours. I'm his."

Gabriel shifted on the bed. He still had a hint of an erection, which he fully intended to use. This had delved far deeper than he had intended to go, but perhaps on the bright side, it had given Alex time to recover sexually.

"Stubborn boy," Gabriel murmured. "Michael would share you with me, if he were here."

Alex's gaze became troubled.

He lowered his voice to just an exhalation, a brush across the human's mouth: "Alex. . . ." Then he switched back to their shared mental link: _We spent thousands of years together. What is one human pet, between us?_

Alex swallowed hard at the phrase, "human pet."

Gabriel lowered his body very slowly. His semi-hard organ touched first, stroking Alex's navel with a moist caress. Alex's belly tightened, pulling back, but Gabriel only smiled. He slid a hand between Alex's thighs and drew the human's soft organ up, aligning it against his own. Once positioned, he lowered himself fully so that their cocks were trapped between them. Alex squirmed but did not fight.

_Pets,_ Alex objected, as if to distract himself. _We're not p-pets. And Michael wouldn't s-share._

_Oh, we almost always shared. Don't believe me?_ He added in his most silken of tones: _I'll show you._

Alex's fingers gripped Gabriel's shoulders as the Archangel slipped farther into his mind. Still fearing, still hating that connection. Still not trusting.

_Shh,_ Gabriel soothed him. _Relax for me. We're going on a trip._

_Where?_ Alex's mental voice was tense.

_Not far. Maybe two hundred years?_

The way Alex gripped him did stir sympathy, despite Gabriel's fierce arousal and impatience. It reminded him that Alex had very recently had the most horrific mental beating and torture Gabriel had ever delivered. He shifted on the bed to slide one arm under Alex's neck like a pillow.

_Relax,_ he breathed. _It is only a memory. My memory. I am going to share with you._ He sent calm through their link, followed by a tingle of arousal. He couldn't quite help the second part; he _needed_ Alex to respond to him, at this point.

Alex slipped an arm around Gabriel's neck. Surprised, Gabriel lowered his head to the mattress. Alex clung to him for several seconds as the calm worked its way through his system. Gabriel let it take hold. He waited for the rigidity to ease in Alex's forearm, waited for those shallow pants to give way to deeper, calmer breaths.

_Very good,_ he praised the boy, once it happened. __

_I'll never get used to this link thing._

_You already are._

_It's like having someone else in your body._

_Well . . . yes._ Gabriel took a slow breath and pulled up the memory he wanted, then reached out to Alex. He opened himself, sharing the scene.

They were in a small room with high, dark ceiling. It was crowded with carved wooden tables, books, various knickknacks, and an overabundance of heavy, stuffy, velvet and leather upholstery. The main feature which caught his attention, though, was the boy—a young man, really—who knelt naked and erect on the expensive carpet between Michael's knees. Gabriel could not see precisely what he was doing, but he knew. The boy's scruffy-black head was bobbing, and Brother's pelvis was shifting in time. The most delicious, wet sounds were rising from the chair, and the sweetest of moans came from above. Each one made Gabriel yearn more to kiss it from those wide-parted, thin pink lips.

Michael didn't take long. The boy had obviously been at this for awhile. Michael's pelvis shoved upward, bringing the human with it as the Archangel released heavily, giving several throaty, loud groans in the process. Gabriel shivered at the sounds. He did rise from his chair, then, and seek out Brother's mouth. Michael kissed him fiercely, locking arms around his neck, hauling Gabriel down nearly into his lap.

"Where were you five minutes ago?" Michael jested.

"Watching and waiting my turn."

"No need for that. The boy has two holes." Michael grinned. His green eyes shone with wicked amusement.

"Brother." Gabriel shook his head and smiled. "The boy needs a rest. That's five times today."

"Get on your knees, then." Michael's wicked grin widened. "We shall make it six. . . ."

Gabriel let the memory trail off. He waited a moment, settling the both of them back in the present. As he did so, though, he was dismayed to find a renewed ache for Michael. Damn the memories that refreshed the loss of Michael's electric touch, Michael's laughter, Michael's comforting or thoughtful or even infuriating presence. How Gabriel missed him!

Alex tilted his face so that his cheek brushed Gabriel's. His voice was barely audible: "That was normal for him?"

"Fairly normal, yes." Gabriel sighed.

Alex shifted beneath him, and that was when Gabriel realized the boy was hard. Somewhere within the memory, seeing Michael's sexual need, Alex had become aroused, himself.

Cautiously Gabriel rolled his pelvis, sliding his cock across the human's. Alex gave a gasp.

"Mm. You like seeing Michael in heat, do you?" A slow smile spread across Gabriel's face. "I have plenty to show you, then."

Alex looked into Gabriel's eyes. "Show me the two of you."

Gabriel was taken aback. That was private. Pets, certainly, plenty of women and men across the centuries, he could show that. But not . . . not them as a _couple_.

Alex slid a hand down his belly. He closed his grip around his own cock and began to milk it with slow, determined strokes. "Please," he whispered. "Show me Michael. Not with other humans. With you."

_Human with a wing-fetish, indeed._ Gabriel frowned. He moved to one side, and Alex tempted him—quite obviously—with a show of spitting in his palm and stroking his own shaft harder.

"You wanted me to cooperate," Alex reminded him.

"Don't use that. This is much better." Gabriel placed a dollop of the good lube just below Alex's swollen head.

Alex arched, gasping as the essential oils worked their magic. "Ohhh my god, what's _in_ that?"

"A little of this and that." Gabriel smirked. "Now, imagine that on my cock, sliding inside you."

Alex hesitated. Then his legs parted. But those dark-circled eyes were still uneasy.

Gabriel slowly licked his lips, considering. "Roll on your side."

"Why?"

Gabriel looked down at himself, then raised an eyebrow. "Because it's easier."

"Do I look like a virgin?"

"Do I look like an ordinary man?" He was, to put it modestly, "well endowed." In point of fact, he and Brother had gotten drunk once, and challenged each other to satisfy a mare . . . but he really did not want to get into that, right now.

"You're the same size as Michael," replied Alex. "And I can take him."

"Stubborn." Gabriel shook his head. "Fine, if you think you can relax enough."

Alex intercepted Gabriel's hand on its way toward his crotch. "Michael, show me."

"Demanding _and_ stubborn." Gabriel took another whiff of pheromones, finding plenty of fear mixed with burgeoning arousal. Alex was doing his best to cooperate, but he was scared. He hid it well, but his body made the chemicals all the same.

He was trying, that was the point. So fine.

"The two of us. . . ." Gabriel took a deep breath. "We often played. But Michael really preferred to top."

"Yes. He gave. . . ." Alex reached up to stroke his own throat. There came a flash of Alex's memory through their open link. Gabriel had seen it before: Michael standing over Alex, Michael's hands clasping Alex's wrists, Michael's hands buckling a leather collar around Alex's neck. The weight of that collar, the meaning of it. Alex's absolute devotion to it. All of that trickled to Gabriel, now.

_Ahh, yes. Your collar._ Gabriel reached out. He glided very light fingers across Alex's throat, knowing those sensations himself, very well.

Alex groaned in response, cock twitching. He bit his lip, paused, then lifted himself and dared to rub against Gabriel's cock. The flare of his head left a faint smear where Gabriel had applied lube to it.

Gabriel's eyebrows rose in intrigue. _Well, well. Someone's getting bold!_

Alex's insistent voice came to his head: _So, did he? To you?_ He licked his lips uncertainly, then continued in a rush: _He did, didn't he. That's why, the dog comment. It pissed you off._

Gabriel gave a slow exhalation. _Stubborn, demanding, and nosy._

Alex rolled his hips, rubbing his half-lubed cock against Gabriel's. _Give me this,_ he begged. _You know how fucking hard this is, for me?_

Gabriel dipped two fingers into the jar of lube. Alex watched him, nervous eyes flitting between his fingers and face.

_There was a collar,_ Gabriel acknowledged. _It was a part-time thing, playtime only. I was always his equal, his Brother, first._ He slid his hand slowly along Alex's leg, dragging his dry fingers along the sensitive flesh of the inner thigh.

_Show me,_ Alex pleaded.

Gabriel's wings rustled across the velvet, brocade, and satin blues of the bed. _Show you._ He followed the inner thigh into the warmth between. Lightly he glided one fingertip across Alex's entrance, but found it perilously tight. Instead, he cupped Alex's scrotum, letting it settle harmlessly in his palm. _Are you absolutely sure? Brother loved to play rough._

Alex nodded.

With that, Gabriel did allow a bit of memory to shiver through. This time, they were in a dirty hallway, and Michael's attention was focused fully on Gabriel. A thick strap of leather was wrapped around Gabriel's throat then twisted in Michael's fist. It was so tight that it cut a sharp line in the skin, but neither seemed to care. Gabriel's wrists were bound behind his back. Michael had shoved him against a stone wall and was whispering horrible, loving things in his ear.

Beneath Gabriel in the present, Alex gasped. His pelvis rocked, offering welcome friction for their rubbing cocks. His skin was heating rapidly. But he protested: _That's . . . not what a collar's about. That's just choking._

Gabriel chuckled. _Technically correct. But for us, that's how it started._ He warned: _You understand it was play. We cared deeply for one another. Spent hours tending to each other after. But we played horrifically cruel games._

_. . . And it helped that we couldn't possibly kill one other._

In the memory, Michael twisted the strap of leather so tight that Gabriel's vision dissolved into dark-edged flickers pulsing with his pounding heartbeat. Michael drove him hard against the wall with one shoulder and wrapped his free hand around Gabriel's thick, guiltily-throbbing cock. Even as Gabriel began to shudder, Michael began to milk him roughly. Gabriel panted and pounded his pelvis into it, fiercely giving it his all while his consciousness lasted.

Beneath him now, Alex arched. His fingernails dug sharply at Gabriel's arm, leaving deep half-moon impressions.

Gabriel pressed his face to Alex's chest, drinking in the feverish response. Alex's heart was racing, the skin on his cheeks and chest flushed as in the hot shower. His cock was painfully stiff, gliding across Gabriel's in awkward jolts as he tried to come to terms with "enemy" and "sex" simultaneously.

_If I didn't know better, Alex,_ Gabriel chuckled, _I'd think you like it._

Gabriel slid his finger again past the tight pucker Brother had used. Now it gave for him, yielding to his pressure, so he pushed. He heard Alex's little gasp, heard the louder one as his finger slid inward.

_Relax for me, Alex,_ Gabriel whispered through the link.

He worked his finger in and out, going deeper with each stroke. Alex was hot and smooth inside. He gripped Gabriel in a way that foretold of a tight fit. This human could handle Brother, perhaps, but he was nowhere close to ready, yet.

Gabriel let the memory play out: Michael had teased him awfully. He had milked Gabriel to the point just shy of climax, then stopped short. He had loosened the collar and let Gabriel recover for a scarce few moments, then tightened it again and repeated the treatment. This had gone on for nearly three hours before Michael had let him cry out helplessly and spill across his fist.

Gabriel gave Alex the whole thing, but condensed it into several minutes. Privately he wondered, but did not ask: _Is this how he treats you, Alex? Can a human even handle that?_

When at last the memory-climax happened, Alex's pelvis jerked, but he was not quite ready. Gabriel kept fingering him, still warming him up. He said to himself: _Not yet, no, not yet, pretty pet. . . ._

Gabriel slid his finger deeper and probed upward, rubbing in circles. Alex gave a beautiful cry and parted himself wide as his prostate reminded him how great this could feel. Good boy. Gabriel rewarded him with several more strokes across that sensitive organ, causing him to grab the bed sheets roughly.

"Don't rip my sheets, Alex."

Gabriel pulled out and went for two fingers, stretching on the way in. Alex took it well, showing no pain. Gabriel gave him a few more strokes and withdrew.

Alex looked up the moment Gabriel shifted on the bed. He swallowed hard, knowing this was it, and closed his eyes. "More memories," he whispered. "Please."

Gabriel stretched on top of him. He pressed his cheek to Alex's and opened—just the tiniest sliver—to let him see:

Michael, with long, dark hair and shining green eyes. Michael shoving Gabriel down, growling. Michael pinning him, wrestling him face-down, pushing his face to the pillows. Gabriel gripping them, gasping as Michael grabbed him by the back of the neck.

Beneath him, Alex groaned. He pushed up against Gabriel, offering hardness that rose against Gabriel's belly, now that Gabriel was lower. Gabriel laced their fingers together, watching him closely.

"That's it, Alex."

Gabriel let the memory continue: Michael in lascivious heat, digging claws into Gabriel's back. The sweet burn of them, the warm, teasing trail of blood flowing down his back into their nest. The scent of it rising, mingling with the musk of their arousal and the olive oil they had used for lube. His own moans as he lifted himself, parted his thighs wide to be driven into. Michael's cock like a broad, fiery torch burning him open.

Alex shuddered. He pushed at Gabriel's chest, and for a moment Gabriel thought he'd gone too far. Then Alex rolled and settled onto his belly. To Gabriel's surprise, Alex parted his thighs and arched his pelvis, just as Gabriel had in the memory.

His heart quickened _._ For a moment, all he wanted to do was grip him, mount, and slam in as hard as he could. But that wasn't proper. Certainly not with a human; he would kill the boy.

Gabriel curled himself gracefully around that offered sacrifice. He placed his lips upon the heated ridge of vertebrae below those sweaty curls. His arm slipped under that muscular, flat belly and found a nice, hot ridge of hardened flesh. He gripped it, evoking a glorious little groan.

He slathered himself heavily with the aromatic cream. Excitement thrilled through every single nerve-fiber as he did so, tingles spreading through him in sweeping waves of sensation. Was it the cream, or the realization of what he was about to do?

_More Michael,_ Alex demanded.

Gabriel let him see more: the way Michael had mounted him, slamming so hard that Gabriel's moans had become cries. The fierce, rapid slam of Brother's cock driving him to ecstasy. It had hurt so badly, but he had loved it. And the following week he had gotten even, he recalled.

_No . . . no._ Gabriel took a deep breath. He needed to temper this. The fierce lovemaking was fine to remember in fondness, but he needed to recall something softer. Or he would rip this human apart.

Alex shuddered again beneath him, gripping the pillow. He was mentally holding onto Michael's face, seeing that long dark hair as Michael had pinned and held Gabriel to the bed.

_Yes._ Gabriel's wings curled around him. His fingers gripped Alex's hips. His pelvis nudged just so, driving the tip of his cock against that stretched entrance.

_I have known him in ways you never can,_ Gabriel whispered. _But I will share him, so you can know._

Alex pushed down. He gave the tiniest yelp at the sudden intrusion, the unexpected stretch of that wide-flared head.

_Easy! Let me guide it._ Gabriel kept his voice patient, though that was hard to maintain.

He fed Alex the memory of Michael on a gentler day: taking him on a peaceful evening, shortly before they had planned to sack a city. They both had been in flesh for days, and had grown quite bored. Michael always had a cure for that.

"He whipped you," gasped Alex, feeling the fresh marks through Gabriel's skin, in the memory.

"Oh, he did," agreed Gabriel fondly. "Take a breath for me, Alex." He guided himself forward, but again, Alex pushed back against it.

_Stubborn._ Gabriel lightly bit the back of his neck.

Alex was tight, but willing. Gabriel guided himself in slowly, despite the human's attempts to impale himself. Once the head was in, the rest was easier. He worked himself in and out with gradual strokes, gasping with pleasure each time he was enfolded in smooth, warm perfection. Alex's body yielded to him bit by bit, enclosing him each time as if custom-made for his shape. Gabriel closed his eyes, taking slow breaths and drinking in the sensations.

To his surprise, Alex—other than the occasional shudder—kept perfectly still once the head was inside. Gabriel found it exceptionally easy to seat himself over three-quarters of the way in. That was not normal, though. Not by a long shot. There were few angels who could take him that far.

_What did you do to this human, Brother?_ Gabriel wondered, even as he ran fingers through Alex's hair. "Good boy," he whispered aloud.

Beneath him, Alex was trembling. A jagged stream of _discomfort_ was starting to leak from him, beneath a thick glaze of pleasure. Gabriel nudged him. "What do you need?"

Alex swallowed hard. "It's . . . it's hard to take it all."

Gabriel shifted backward. "Does he usually make you keep still like this?"

Alex hesitated. "I didn't know what you. . . . " He trailed off, and a cloud of shame rose from him. Silently Alex added: _I don't bottom like this. Only for Michael. And I always know what he wants._

_I see._ Gabriel rested his chin on Alex's shoulder. His hand beneath Alex was finding less and less to grip. "You're losing your erection, Alex."

"I told you it hurts."

_That isn't the real problem. The problem is you feel like you're submitting to the wrong person. And you miss Michael._

Alex lowered his head. __

Gabriel debated letting him go. It probably was the _proper_ thing to do, but he was so close, and the human felt so great as a sheath. Gabriel looked up at the ceiling for a moment, then shared a more private memory:

Michael face-to-face with him. Michael kissing him, holding him close. Michael sliding into him, whispering: _Forever, Brother. The two of us._ Their slow love-making, the thud of their bodies sliding together. Chest to chest, pelvis to pelvis. Arms entangled, wings encircling one another. Michael's legs pushing his open. The steady thrum of pulse at Michael's elegant throat. The way Gabriel used to kiss it, then suckle as they coupled. Michael pushing into him, then holding in, so deep, just rocking inside. Locked together like that, for hours. And then the extra step: their twin spirits overlapping, the two of them combining in the most natural act they knew. The sweet exchange of energy, just a trickle, back and forth, as they lay together under the stars. Combining. Loving. Mating.

Gabriel felt heat rise, flesh and spirit, as he relived that great, impassioned scene. He never had shared it—indeed, had pushed it aside—and now the weight of Brother's absence made his heart squeeze. He badly needed relief. He moaned and rocked his pelvis, hugging Alex against him. He used that beautiful boy, Michael's pet, this perfect sheath of flesh, to stroke himself off.

Beneath him, Alex stirred, responding at last. He tightened. He writhed. He began to buck, reaching out toward the mating-scene memory as if wanting to be part of it. He too clung to Michael, remembering—through Gabriel—how wonderful Brother's cock felt, filling him inside.

"Good boy." Gabriel let him move. They were out of synch at first, with Alex defiantly finding his own rhythm. Gabriel kept going, using his hand on Alex's cock to pull him into time. With that stroking to guide him, Alex fell in. The human gave a groan and succumbed, now locking his own movements to Gabriel's.

"Good boy," repeated Gabriel firmly. He began to speed up, allowing his body to find the climax it so desperately sought in that tight, squeezing heat. He held back of course, not wishing damage, but his pelvis began to slam against that alluring backside.

Alex responded beautifully. He slid flat on the bed, trapping Gabriel's hand beneath him—no matter—and bent himself backward like a beast in heat.

Gabriel freed his hand and drove in harder, intentionally pressing downward for Alex's prostate as reward. He gripped Alex by the hips and plunged inward, driving the full length of his cock. Alex cried out as Gabriel's balls banged against his own.

Again. Again. Amazing, the thick shivers of pain rising up from the human, along with the unbelievable jolts of joy each time his cock hit that prostate. Gabriel was floating. His own body was right at the edge, fluid leaking and easing his passage all the way in.

_Hurts—_

"I know."

_Gab—_

_"_ Come for me, Alex."

Alex dug fingers into the pillows. His body gave a violent surge, pelvis viciously bucking against the bed. He cried out, his whole back arching as if in agony, fingers gripping and crushing on velvet before going slack.

Gabriel dragged his teeth on the back of Alex's neck and drank it in, the hot, thick rush of orgasm and pain. His wings dragged heavily across the bed, ripping the fabric. His climax erupted, bringing a hoarse shout from Gabriel and a second cry from Alex. Hot fluid gushed, overflowing, pooling and cooling on the bed like wax. It mingled with Alex's seed, seeping into the fabric.

In the aftermath, Gabriel pinned Alex. Motionless. Claimed. Stretched and hurting and conquered. But also sated and thoroughly pleasured. Gabriel's mouth softened to a single, lingering kiss at his neck.

_Shh. Quiet, now._ He was feeling sedate in the wake of this. __

Alex was not quiet, though. He lay beneath Gabriel panting and trembling. A moment later, he tried to drag himself forward on the bed.

_Be still, Alex._ Gabriel frowned.

Alex swallowed hard. _Pain._

_. . . Oh._ Drowsily, Gabriel realized the issue. He eased backward a few inches, and Alex went completely limp. _I did warn you I am large._

Gabriel wrapped his wings around their entwined bodies. He sent a powerful surge of comfort through their link. Alex went from trying to get away to nestling against him, just like that. Gabriel was pleased. In the thick, lazy minutes that followed, Gabriel held and petted him, giving healing.

Eventually he pulled out all the way, bringing a gasp and stifled whimper from Alex. He could stay hard for hours, but there was no point. Alex was done for the night. Instead, Gabriel turned on his side and pulled the human's warm shape against him. Alex curled to face him, relaxing fully only when Gabriel's wing secured against his shoulder blades. He then gave a contented sigh and slipped into light sleep.

To Gabriel's surprise, Alex soon hooked a leg over Gabriel's hip and an arm around his neck. It was a vulnerable position, to say the least, with their genitals pressed together and Alex's cheek on his chest. Gabriel was not quite sure what to make of it. It was actually a bit too intimate, for his preference. He was fond of Alex but . . . not that fond. He was looking for a plaything, not a partner.

_He probably thinks I am Michael,_ Gabriel reasoned. Firmly he unwrapped his wings and Alex's limbs, turning them so that Alex lay spooned with his back to Gabriel's chest and belly. That was much better. Except now he was lying partly on the ripped sheets. Which were befouled by seed. And they both needed another shower.

All of the mess could wait, Gabriel concluded. Aftercare was far more important. He stretched out his wings for healing, hugged Alex against him, and let the guttering candles burn themselves out.  
  
---


	9. Damning the Flood (link)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I am cheating. This chapter is actually a link to a stand-alone piece:
> 
> "[ **Damning the Flood**](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4609023)" - which describes what happens when Gabriel contacts Michael.

"[ **Damning the Flood**](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4609023)"


	10. The Rambling and Ugly Chapter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gabriel returns home heavy-hearted to find a cheeky Alex has rifled his room. Gabriel's punishment is old-school, but he hasn't the heart for much. They talk, they argue, they link in unexpected ways. Alex goes from belligerent to scared to beaten to sad to angry again, as if he has PMS, because the writer is sleep deprived and has a poor grasp of characterisation. ~Gabe.
> 
> Rated NC-17 for language, brief mention of M/M oral sex, remembered anal sex, rough spanking/belts, and a really rough landing on a balcony.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My apologies for this chapter. It is rambling and ugly. It was another of those which rewrote itself six times and added a thousand words on every time. There's two discarded half-a-chapters in the folder beside it, which I will make into future chapters soon.
> 
> I'm sorry this chapter is so rambling and bad. :-/

**Chapter 10**

He was coming in too fast. Gabriel's damaged wings were frozen boards, stiff against the air; he could not cup them enough to brake. He grabbed the balcony railing as it whizzed past, but his momentum flung him over—hard—like a trapeze act gone horribly wrong. The flagstones cracked stars before his eyes. He lay where he landed, thoroughly winded, aching, and groaning at the late morning sky.

_It's better than the glass doors,_ he told himself. He decided to stay there awhile, while the world settled back in place. Thank Father no one had seen him.

Then quietly the balcony doors clicked. Alex's cheeky greeting carried on the cool mountain air: "Three stars for the approach, but only one for the landing."

_Shit. Shit, shit, shit._ Gabriel closed his eyes. He decided not to answer. Perhaps the human would think him dead, and go away.

There came the pad of bare feet on stone. Then Alex's voice called again, surprised: "Holy shit, what happened to you?"

"I'm fine." Gabriel could smell more blood trickling from either the slash down his side or the piercings in his wings. That could be to what the boy referred, or perhaps his other marks. There were, from the feel of it, at least three bruises on his face, deep rope-burns at his wrists, bites on his lips, and almost certainly marks between his legs. Hopefully the human wouldn't notice that.

"Uhh. Sure. You look fine." Alex leaned against the strained railing, making it creak. He was still naked from before, with goosebumps rising all along his inked skin. "Since we're past that, can you order someone to bring me breakfast? I'm starving. And you locked me in."

Gabriel struggled to sit up, very slowly, and Michael's twin swords clattered from his belt. Alex stood staring at them with a blank expression. Then he concluded:

"Oh. That's what happened to you."

Gabriel gave him just a tired look. He hadn't the energy right now for an argument. He leaned back against the railing and gazed up at the clouds. He would stretch for the swords in a moment, when he got to his feet.

Alex had other ideas. He crouched over them, lean buttocks clenched in the cool air. He looked for all the world like a primeval caveman ogling his first wildfire ember.

Inwardly Gabriel sighed. "Don't even think about it," he warned.

Alex more than thought about it. One blade glinted brilliantly as Alex pulled it up. The human turned it slowly over and over, reflecting light in Gabriel's eyes. "How did you get these?"

"How do you think?"

"You left him unarmed, somewhere?"

"He needed to be."

"I'm sure," was the sarcastic answer. Alex's voice then lowered. "There's fresh blood on this. That yours?"

"And his."

The human's voice became dangerous: "Maybe I should finish the job." He straightened, bringing the sword up.

Gabriel hadn't patience for this idiocy. He simply reached through the link and forced both of the boy's hands wide open. He locked them that way and let go . . . mostly. He kept just enough control so that Alex could not close his hands again.

The sword jangled against its companion at Alex's bare feet. Gabriel glanced down to count Alex's toes—well, Michael's Chosen One was lucky. _Not burned, but that will teach you to toy with fire._

Alex stiffened and backed away. "You son of a _bitch_!" In an instant, the confidence and self-protective cheekiness he'd regained were wrenched away. Alex turned and fled through the open door back to Gabriel's quarters.

"I did warn you," Gabriel murmured. It was an empty victory, though. The boy was helpless, and Gabriel had held no desire to impose his will in the first place.

_Damn it._ Gabriel now had a headache, along with everything else. His whole body ached, including his heart. Very gradually, grudgingly, he climbed to his feet and grabbed up Michael's swords.

"Where are you, boy?"

He passed into his quarters to find the torn and befouled bed, reminder of his romp with Alex the night before. He'd been lenient with the human: had let him rest, given him healing, and allowed him to stay in his own, comfortable lodgings. Once Alex had slipped deeply asleep, Gabriel had then gone to find Brother that same night.

Perhaps he was too lenient, however, for now Gabriel noticed his papers and belongings were pulled out of—and in most cases stuffed roughly back into—his cubbyholes, cabinets, and niches.

Gabriel's expression settled into displeasure. His mood settled several notches below. "Alex!" he snapped.

"Fix my hands." The sullen sound came from a dim corner of the room.

Gabriel half-turned to find Alex crouched near a cabinet, once more in his hurt-wild-animal pose, with those haunted, mistrustful eyes fixed upon him. There was scarce sign of the brash boy who had greeted him, minutes before. Alex was rubbing his frozen hands against his chest as if they hurt, but Gabriel knew they did not.

"Your hands are the least of my concerns right now." Gabriel swept a hand to encompass the rifled room. "Your explanation?"

"Hunting food?"

"I was very lenient with you, Alex. _Very_ lenient."

"What does that even mean?"

Gabriel took a deep breath for patience. He was heart-weary and injured. He truly did not _want_ to do this right now. But the boy must be disciplined. "Tell me honestly, Alex. What would Michael do, if he came back and you had gone through his belongings?"

Alex hesitated.

"Hm?" Gabriel prompted. "Would he do something lenient, like freeze your hands? Lock you in a sumptuous room with a bed and comfortable furniture?"

"Whip me," mumbled Alex.

"Indeed, he would whip you." Gabriel pointed. "Now. Over the side of the bed."

"No." The word was very quiet.

" _Over_ the side of the bed, or I will _make_ you, and you shan't like it."

Alex gave a shudder from the shelter of his dark corner. "I'm not a child. And you're not my Dom, daddy, or commanding officer. So fuck off."

Gabriel took another breath. _Not in anger. Do not do this in anger,_ he reminded himself. _You will rip his flesh from his bones._ "This discussion is not over," he informed the boy.

"Oh, yes it is."

Brave words coming from the shadow of a cabinet. Gabriel drew himself up, only to hear a final repartee:

"Fix my goddamn hands!"

Gabriel grunted. He had been _about_ to cede the floor, but due to that, he advanced directly on Alex's position. He heard the sharp intake of breath, heard the human's heart rate double. Even from two meters away, he picked up the unmistakable pheromones of fight-or-flight: stress, fear, anger. Masculine self-preparation. In the shadows Alex straightened, trying unsuccessfully to make fists.

Gabriel quite intentionally stalked toward him, shoulders set, feet heavy on the floor. Then, at the last moment, he veered to the right. He opened the cabinet, hung the swords inside, then carefully closed and locked it. He gave Alex nothing to fight; indeed, he ignored the boy completely. Instead, he turned around and stepped to the shower. The whole idea was to leave the boy rattled. Gabriel stripped and tossed clothing over his shoulder on the way.

The hot spray was glorious. Gabriel lounged in it, letting it cleanse his wings, skin and hair of any hint of sex, wine, sand, or desert wind. The blood . . . the blood he wouldn't mind keeping. He cupped his hands in the wan red droplets pouring from his wings. Some of it was his, and some was Brother's. He drank from his cupped hands. He washed his face with it.

_I miss you,_ he whispered, not transmitting loudly enough to span the distance. He did not want to cause an outburst; Michael was likely still furious with him.

As expected, Alex took five or six minutes to assess his options. Finally he crept to the edge of the shower.

"Have you decided to behave?" Gabriel inquired mildly.

There was no answer from Alex at first. When Gabriel glanced over, he was standing in a belligerent pose, as if perhaps he thought he had won the day. He was sadly mistaken, but Gabriel would prove that point in a moment.

"He really cut the fuck out of your side." Alex sounded satisfied about that.

"Mm." Gabriel soaped himself, refusing to look at the human again. The deadly arc of Brother's wings came back to him, along with the sickening rip of one slicing his armor and flesh. Had Michael done that on purpose? Or had it been a miscalculation? Michael's other wing had cut his feathers, as was normal for such a fight. Brother had rarely wounded his body that way, before.

"You guys had an all-out brawl," continued Alex.

Gabriel soaped up one arm, examining the lines at his wrist. Those ropes had really dug deeply. He would be visibly bruised today.

"Did he whip you?" demanded Alex.

Gabriel ignored him.

Alex tried again: "Did he rape you when he won?"

Gabriel stopped lathering. "Why would you even ask that, Alex? That's incredibly rude."

Alex didn't answer, so Gabriel turned to look at him.

Alex's face was unreadable. "Fix my hands," was all he said, once he finally had Gabriel's attention.

Gabriel's eyes narrowed dangerously. "I do believe you're fucking with me, boy."

"I'd give anything to be fucking with _him_."

"You don't mean that." Gabriel washed the lather off. "Right now he would rip you to ragged strips."

Alex's brow wrinkled with indignation.

"If he did this to me, Alex, what do you honestly think he might do to you?"

"He doesn't like you," Alex countered.

"Wrong." Gabriel turned off the shower. "You had better hope by the time he heals, he's calm enough—"

Abruptly Alex was shouting in Gabriel's face: "What'd you do to him?!"

Gabriel simply put out a hand and _shoved_ , propelling Alex back against the far side of the bathroom. "Manners, Alex."

Alex slammed hard, staggered, but regained his balance. "What'd you do?" he insisted. "You said, 'by the time he heals.'"

Gabriel had had enough. "What I did to him, Alex—" He grabbed a towel and dragged it across himself. "—Really will pale in comparison to what I am about to do to you."

Alex became wary. He backed away, slipped on the tiles, but recovered. His eyes never left Gabriel. They had lost their cocky gleam. Thank goodness.

Gabriel stirred through his discarded clothes and found what he wanted. When he straightened, he stretched his leather belt between both hands. "You see, Alex, I rarely use a whip on humans. They don't heal well. And I rarely strike in anger. It's one of my personal rules."

Alex straightened, realizing belatedly that the prior topic really wasn't over after all. He backed into the bedroom proper, holding his head high, but those fear pheromones were pumping out beautifully.

"Because when I do," Gabriel continued, "I tend to mangle and destroy. Understand?"

Alex nodded slowly.

"So, now that I've had a shower, and such a pleasant discussion with you, let's get back to my possessions." He looped the belt and smacked it against his damp thigh, bouncing a sharp crack from the ceiling and walls. "Over the side of the bed!"

Alex swallowed hard.

"I am going to start counting, Alex. For every second I count, that's another stripe across your lovely rear. On top of what you've already earned, by going through my things. Ready? One."

Alex bared his teeth in defiance.

"Two." Gabriel advanced on him slowly. "Three." He put his hand out to guide the boy to the bed, adding a little push of encouragement. Alex pushed back. "If you fight me, I will use the buckle. Four."

Alex gritted his teeth. "I'm not a child."

"Five, Alex."

Alex stood very still, staring at him. For a long moment, the cheeky Alex warred with the haunted one. In the boy's eyes, Gabriel could see them grappling with one another, the brave versus the beaten. He even suspended counting, to see which one emerged.

To his surprise, it appeared to be a tie. Alex did not obey, but he stopped fighting. He put his hands up and backed off. When Gabriel reached for him, Alex lowered his head.

"I'm not a child," he repeated in a low voice.

"Oh no, Alex." Gabriel guided him by the arm to the bed. "I would never beat a child the way I am about to beat you." He pushed him down over the side of the bed. "On your knees. Stretch your arms above your head. Clasp your hands."

Alex did so, hiding his face between his arms.

"Much better." Gabriel stood over him, inspecting him. That strong back was bent, arms reaching up as if in supplication, hands clasped together. His head was lowered as it should be. He was on his knees, buttocks offered handsomely, toes curled with worry at what was to come. Lovely creature.

Gabriel reached down, then, and carefully tucked Alex's hanging scrotum deep between his legs. "Knees together. You will thank me for that."

Alex shuddered at the touch, but nodded vaguely at the words.

"Do you understand you are being punished for going through my things without asking?"

Alex didn't realize it was a question; Gabriel had to nudge him before he answered, "Yes."

"Do you understand you will receive no aftercare for this; this is punishment, not play?"

"Y-yes."

"Good. One day you will learn to respect me, Alex."

Alex didn't answer that. Which was fine; Gabriel didn't expect it. Gabriel rubbed the belt against the boy's skin, making him feel the leather. Making him wait. Putting him in an agony of expectation, which was easily a third of the pain in any beating.

_This is what awaits you, pretty beast. Because you couldn't keep your curious monkey hands to yourself._ Gabriel stroked his back and buttocks with the belt. _Perhaps someone should train you to do better._ He was talking to himself, but he did not much mind if Alex overheard. __

A belt is not like a whip. It leaves heavy, dull marks that rise up in thick, red lines, eventually darkening to bruises. The trick with a belt is to strike across the pad of the buttocks to find relatively sensitive spots, but never to stray from the protective covering of fat. To strike too low would be to damage the legs; to strike too high would be to damage the kidneys—flatly unacceptable.

Gabriel had made a study of this, over the years. Brother preferred the back, for it was more sensitive, but with human pets, Gabriel took few chances. The buttocks were almost always safe.

Of course, then, you encountered a rear like Alex's: all muscle, with just a little fat, and a lovely curvature that begged to be fucked. The boy was going to feel this, most keenly.

Gabriel raised the belt to his shoulder and smacked it down across those beautiful buttocks. Alex sucked in a breath. The whole bed shifted at the blow, but Gabriel had just been testing. He watched the red mark appear. He could judge by how quickly it showed, how well Alex's body was going to handle what he was about to experience.

"You are really not going to enjoy this," he observed.

"You could just . . . call it off," suggested Alex shakily.

"Discipline is important."

"Is there anything I can do to . . . you know? Commute it?"

Gabriel considered. "Such as?"

Alex looked up. "What do you want?" That first blow must have stung; the boy looked a little desperate.

Gabriel sighed. What did he want? To sit and talk to Brother. To be held, so that he wouldn't be so heartsick. To know that, out in the desert somewhere, Michael wasn't scraping his feathers off with rocks.

The weight of this was nearly unbearable.

"There's nothing in particular that you can give me, Alex."

Alex looked confused. "C'mon, you're related to Michael." He reached down, as if to touch his own cock.

Gabriel frowned. _How dare you._ He brought the belt down with a snap. Alex shouted in surprise and pain, grabbing the covers. Gabriel snapped it down a third time, laying it perfectly across the first lash he'd made. The dark red stripe was deepening to purple already, and the additional layer must have really burned.

"Stop!" Alex cried. He scrambled up and backpedalled, holding his hands up toward Gabriel. This of course was not allowed. Gabriel grabbed him by the wrist and wrenched him back down, pinning him there. Now he raised the belt above his head.

The fourth blow was even harder, leaving a welt across the boy's right buttock that did not fade. The fifth he snapped fiercely in the opposite direction, causing Alex to cringe away, crowding against the bed. He howled:

_Please, Gabriel,_ please, _Gabriel, please! I'm sorry!_

Gabriel paused as the fearful words broke through his growing anger.

_Please, Gabriel, please stop. I'm sorry, really sorry!_

Alex was shaking uncontrollably. Gabriel knew he'd done some damage. He ran first his eyes then his fingers across the boy, looking for broken bones. He was injured, yes, but not badly. Gabriel had stopped before doing serious harm.

"How many was that?" the Archangel whispered.

"F-five." Alex crouched where Gabriel had put him, still over the edge of the bed.

"Enough for the delay, but not the offense itself."

Alex looked sick. "I can't take any more right now. I can't."

Gabriel looked him over, then angrily tossed aside the belt. _There was a time you would have punched Brother for marking a pet that way,_ he told himself. He rubbed at his forehead in frustration. "We can finish it later," he concluded. "I really haven't the stomach for it, right now."

"Oh thank god." Alex sank to the floor in relief. He curled in on himself, then noticed droplets of fresh blood beside him. "Am I bleeding?"

"No. I am." Gabriel reached to cover his side, which had been strained by the beating.

"You sure?"

"Yes. I am sure." Gabriel glanced at the ruby blood trickling down his side.

Alex gazed at it, too. "That's a long cut for Michael's sword."

"It was his wing, not the blade." Gabriel looked around for his lighter, thinking perhaps it was time he sealed the wound.

Alex looked surprised. "You're joking."

"Why would I joke about that, Alex?"

"I've never seen a wing make a vertical cut like that."

"You've never seen two angels wrestle," Gabriel pointed out.

"I've seen two eight-balls fight over a candy bar."

Gabriel sighed. "In your rifling this morning, did you encounter a lighter?"

"No. Found a lot of papers with funny script, though."

Gabriel favored him with a scowl. "Angelic." He scooped up the nearest disheveled stack and tried to put them neatly back in their folder. "Please tell me you did not shuffle these."

"I didn't." Alex paused, then called: "They looked like Enochian to me."

"Oh, so you know the difference between Angelic and Enochian, then."

Alex paused. "Not really."

"Mm." Gabriel tossed the folder down. "Completely different languages, Alex. In human terms, the one is based loosely on Hebrew, the other on the scryings and calculations of John Dee and his addict partner in the Elizabethan period."

"Sure." Alex sounded skeptical.

Gabriel shook his head. "We use them differently, of course."

"Whatever." Alex sighed. He was rubbing his own butt, looking unhappy about it.

Gabriel frowned and decided Alex had had enough education for today. His mistake, for trying in the first place. He went on looking for his lighter.

After a few minutes, Alex called: "You said you hurt him. Michael. What'd you do?"

"There is no point to this conversation, Alex. You will not believe what I tell you, regardless of what I say."

"Try me," Alex challenged.

Gabriel glanced at him. "Well, to begin with, he did most of the hurting, himself."

As expected, Alex was immediately offended. "Bullshit!"

Gabriel held one hand aloft. "There you are. You see? Instant disbelief." He gave up the lighter search and instead began tugging at the ruined bed coverings in disgust.

Alex paused. "Hurt himself how? Like, on purpose?"

"Why do you think I took the swords, Alex?"

"To be an asshole."

Gabriel reached out through their link. Alex recoiled, but Gabriel kept reaching, sharing memory. He showed Alex the swords, recalling the way Brother's blood had seeped over the thin edges, how the moonlight had caught each bead spilling over and pouring down those magnificent feathers.

Alex lifted his hands as if to ward off the image.

"Look at it!" Gabriel thundered. "That is what he was doing when I found him!"

Alex stared at him, breathless. Through their link, disbelief was melting into horror and sickness. "Why?" he croaked.

"I am still not sure."

Gabriel gave Alex one single glance of Brother's body, crisscrossed with cuts. Then he pulled the images back.

Alex swallowed hard. He curled tighter and hugged himself.

The human's current position was pretty much the one Gabriel wanted to be in, himself. And had Alex not been in the room, well. . . .

Gabriel stared out the balcony doors. Agitation rose within him like a swarm of pestilent flies. They buzzed at him, stealing his peace of mind in bites, bumping him irritatingly this way or that. He wanted to go back to Brother. He wanted to yell at Brother, and smack him and pin him to the ground. He wanted to hug Brother. . . . He wanted to make him somehow stop hurting himself.

More immediately, he wanted to make Alex stop sitting there and transmitting such awful sadness and bewilderment.

"Alex, stop it," he muttered aloud. "I can feel that. It's distracting."

Alex started. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "I just . . . I can't imagine Michael doing that."

"I've known him a bit longer." Gabriel exhaled, then sank against the wall beside the human. "He does strange things on occasion. Always for a reason."

Alex sat up a little, wincing at the pain in his rear. He leaned against the same wall, staring down at his frozen hands. He lowered his head. Through their link, Gabriel felt the last of the human's anger dissolving into sadness. _Can't figure out how I became his prisoner,_ Alex thought to himself, just a little too loudly. _Was supposed to be here of my own will. Now I'm spanked like a toddler and can't use my hands._

Gabriel stretched out his legs, feeling the weight of that sadness move within his own breast. "As for your hands, it's better than broken ribs, Alex. Consider it an easy lesson." He paused. "For what it's worth, in the old days, Brother would have smashed your hands for touching his blade at all. Never mind holding it over my head."

"Michael doesn't treat me that way."

Gabriel nodded vaguely. "He usually doesn't, at first." He clasped one of Alex's hands in his own, not unlocking but rubbing it, reassuring Alex that he still had sensation, still had use of it. He allowed some comfort, some healing, to flow through as he did so.

Alex let him, although that was an uneasy surrender. The human's gaze stayed locked on Gabriel, watching him massage. After a minute or so, he whispered: "I can't figure you out."

Gabriel had grown calmer with the healing. He murmured, "Yes?"

"You beat the ever-living fuck out of me, then touch me so gentle. I can't understand it."

Gabriel shook his head, not answering.

"It's almost like you can't help yourself. After you smash humans, you have to fix them. Some kind of . . . angel programming."

Gabriel closed his eyes. He took a deep breath then slid an arm around Alex's shoulders. Alex hunkered down but didn't pull away.

"There is so much about me," Gabriel spoke sincerely, "that you do not understand. Nor will you ever, Alex."

"Yeah, I don't really want to," Alex informed him.

"Exactly." Gabriel gave him a sad smile.

Alex's gaze became puzzled. "Is this where you tell me your daddy used to spank you, that's why you went on a mass-murdering spree and killed all the humans?"

"I'd prefer not your sarcasm, when I am being sincere with you."

"Sorry." Alex dropped his eyes, staring at his hands again.

Gabriel pulled his arm back, feeling even lower than before. He stared out the balcony doors again, into the cloud-strewn sky. Perhaps Brother had the right idea. Perhaps he should isolate himself for a time, to see if that brought healing. He was getting nowhere with the boy's markings, and certainly triggering no visions, despite putting Alex under severe duress.

Perhaps he should go away for awhile. Leave his Lieutenants in charge. But Brother didn't want him, Father was gone . . . where should he go?

"Is that you?"

Gabriel looked down at Alex's question to find the boy squinting up at him. "Is what me?"

"That . . . weird, lonely feeling?"

_Well, shit._ Gabriel cleared his throat and hastily closed the link between them, shutting off any access the human might have accidentally gained.

"Now it stopped." Alex tilted his head. "That _was_ you."

Gabriel looked at the sky again, not bothering to answer.

"You were the reason my side was burning, too." Alex rubbed at his ribs with one forearm. "He really beat the hell out of you."

Gabriel got up. Embarrassing. He would have to pay better attention to what he was allowing through the link. A proper link was one-way, not two-way. In his zeal to feed Alex memories of Michael, he had opened himself too much.

"Hey, you need to get some help," Alex pressed him. "You're seriously hurt."

"Be quiet, boy." Gabriel's voice was cold.

Alex sucked in a breath, but said nothing more.

Gabriel balled up the bedding, his dirty clothes, and damaged armor. He dragged them into the hall. "Put on some fresh clothing. I need to feed you."

"You don't feed me," mumbled Alex, "I'm not a pet."

"You most certainly are."

"And I don't have 'fresh clothing,' Just what I came in."

Gabriel opened his wardrobe and began to go through it with a scowl.

"If you're looking for something for me," Alex added, "none of that leather-daddy bullshit with buckles. My ass is sore."

"So is mine," Gabriel muttered.

"I noticed."

Gabriel's scowl deepened. Fucking embarrassing. He dragged out two simple robes. "The gray one is shorter. Put it on." He slipped into an embroidered green.

"Hands," Alex reminded him.

"You still haven't agreed to behave."

"What does it matter if I agree to behave or not?" Alex stayed where he was.

Gabriel took a deep breath for patience. "Because if you behave it makes things far easier."

Alex shot him a genuinely puzzled look. "Who says 'agreeing to behave' and 'behaving' are the same thing?"

Gabriel blinked several times. "Well, that would be our agreement. You agree to behave, and do so."

"So you'd just . . . assume I would do what I said."

"That is generally how it works." Gabriel was starting to get a bad feeling about this. "Michael really taught you . . . nothing. Did he?"

"He taught me plenty," Alex protested.

"About our kind," Gabriel amended. "Our agreements, our nature, our . . . needs?"

Alex's cheeks became rosy. "Your needs, yeah."

Gabriel exhaled, receiving a flash of memory from Alex: Michael standing over him, feeding the head of his thick cock into Alex's mouth. The vision continued—Michael guiding his member gradually down Alex's throat, working his pelvis in little pumps, teaching Alex to tilt his head back just so. Michael, using a little clove oil to help Alex get past the choking reflex. It was a mixture of memories, condensed into one.

Gabriel tilted his head.

The memories continued: Alex gripping Michael by the hips, taking as much as he could, sucking eagerly when Michael pulled back. Alex, wanting so badly to please, swallowing that thick member. Drinking Michael's seed, with Brother's cock so deep down his throat that Alex couldn't even taste it. Alex clinging to him, gripping him once more by the hips as Michael softened and withdrew. Michael running fingers through Alex's hair, touching his cheek, giving him the praise that Alex so desperately needed. So _desperately_ needed. . . .

Gabriel stepped forward. "Alex," he murmured aloud, to bring the boy back to the present. He placed his palm securely on Alex's cheek, coincidentally where Michael's was in the vision.

Alex started, then the rose caught fire all through his face. "Shit," he hissed. "You saw that."

"I did." Gabriel patted his cheek, giving a knowing smile. "You took it like a champ."

"Oh god." Alex hid his face.

Gabriel immediately felt better about his own little slip. "Just agree not to try to kill me, Alex. And I will give you back use of your hands."

Alex peeked over the top of his open hands. "Kill you, ever?"

Gabriel raised an eyebrow. "Is that asking too much?"

"I intend to go back to Vega, Gabriel. The next time you attack there. . . ."

"Fine." Gabriel gave a long exhalation. "Promise not to kill me, during your stay here at my Aerie."

"Done."

Gabriel grasped one of Alex's hands. He began to massage it again, releasing the locks he'd put on the nerves. There came immediate relief from Alex, along with . . . was that gratitude, he sensed through the link? Gabriel peered at him. The human was sitting at his feet, offering his hands to be healed. It was a rather submissive position.

Ever so lightly, Gabriel glided two fingers beneath Alex's jaw. To his delight, the human automatically lifted his chin. It was very subtle, but a sign of obedience.

"What happens if I break the promise?" Alex queried. He had not noticed the gesture, nor his own response, it seemed.

Gabriel chuckled. "Father shall come down and rain darkness upon your line, to the end of eternity."

Alex blinked. "Okay, what else? Since he's kinda awol."

Gabriel shrugged. "Brother will be majorly pissed. I am his only twin, after all."

"Good enough."

Gabriel clasped the other hand to massage it. He worked his hands across the skin and muscle, taking his time. Alex had earned pleasure with this. He was being good.

Alex stared him in the eyes for a second. There was something on his mind. "Gabriel, when we were linked, I felt the ache in your side, and . . . elsewhere."

"Yes?"

"He really did rape you."

Gabriel licked his lips uneasily, and Alex looked away. "It was . . . a rough, but consensual, coupling. He reminded me of certain things."

"Like?"

Gabriel's answer was guarded: "How certain things hurt more than one might expect."

Alex's eyes flitted toward the bed. So did Gabriel's. A memory seeped between them: Gabriel clasping Alex tightly by the hips and mounting him from behind. Gabriel remembered driving in deeply—too deeply, his body curled hungrily around that hurting body, which was straining to take all of him. Even struggling to get away.

Alex's eyes returned to his. The words slipped out almost as if Alex didn't mean to say them: _Pain from you. Again._

_Didn't Michael train you to take it all?_ Gabriel murmured.

_No._

_Perhaps I shall._

Just like that, Alex's eyes jerked away. The confidence was ripped off; he was torn down again. The memory played over, but from Alex's point of view: him struggling to encompass it, gasping, crying out at the size. Tears of pain blending strangely with surges of pleasure as climax struck, like electricity all through him. Clawing at the bed with his fingernails, knowing he was being damaged and not able to escape Gabriel's arm forcing him back, impaling him on a cock bigger than he'd ever had to take.

Gabriel felt his heart squeeze. That had genuinely not been his intention. He reached for Alex, clasping him by the shoulder. _I know I injured you. But I gave healing._

Alex's brow wrinkled. _Do you see what I mean about the instinctive healing thing? It's like you can't help yourself._

Gabriel shrugged that off. _I wouldn't trust that,_ he advised.

_So is that . . . normally how you . . . what, mate?_

_Normally? No. Only when I get very excited._ The words were delivered with the hint of an apology. Gabriel stroked his thumb across Alex's dark-circled eye socket. _I will be kinder, next time._

Alex jerked his face away. _You have no idea what that's like._

_I do,_ Gabriel told him. _Brother made me feel it, earlier. To remind me not to hurt you._

Alex's jaw clenched. There was sudden, fierce anger in him. _Fuck you, Gabriel._

_We're back to that, are we?_ Gabriel let his hand fall. _I was being gentle, just now._

Alex was upset. He was remembering sex mixed with pain, remembering being pinned and not able to get away. He was forgetting hours of healing, hours of being held, hours of comfort that came after. Gabriel stepped back, giving him space.

_You rape me and beat me, then try to make it better by saying you had sex with Michael. That's great._ The words were so bitter, Gabriel took another step back.

Alex pulled the gray robe tight around him. _Just leave me the fuck alone._ The human began to fight with the door, tugging and yanking on it. "How the _fuck_ do I get this thing open?"

Gabriel opened it for him. Alex slammed it on the way out, hard enough to rattle candles and knickknacks.

". . . What in hell did I say?"

Gabriel stared at the door long after Alex had left his quarters, finally sinking down beside his bed. _You rape me,_ the boy had said. But he had gone out of his way not to do so.

Yes, he had hurt the boy to make him obey, and to punish for disrespect. But he had given healing and comfort, once the issue was settled. Was that not enough? Was he always to be judged for his harshness, never his mercy?

He covered his face with a low moan. He missed Brother, terribly. He wanted nothing more than to wrap his wings around Michael and hold him close, whisper in his ear, "what shall I do about this child?" and let Michael handle the issue. Michael would know what to do about Alex. Michael always knew.

_Fucking goddamned humans._ Gabriel curled in the floor.  
  
---


	11. Moody Gabriel, an Alex Chandelier, and the Angel Chip Toss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter centers around Gabriel's mood. A two-part chapter. Part one, Gabriel's dark mood deepens. He is suffering emotionally and that only gets worse when he gets a plea for help: an angry Alex has run into serious trouble, again. The second part of the chapter is a lunch-scene that introduces a rather odd, angelic tradition and an even odder obedience that leaves Gabriel at first pleased, then moody again. Poor Gabe just can't catch any breaks!
> 
> Rated hard R - contains no actual sex, but 3 references to it. Plus bad language, blood, bruises, death.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rated hard R - sexual references, bad language, blood, bruises, death.
> 
> Wow what a roller coaster. I really have to get Gabe happy, fast, or we're all going to be screwed. We're writing these scenes while watching Season Two unfold so the muse is learning his own backstory (chosen one) and seeing his "future" self get tortured (fun fun) as we go. Next scene is another Michael encounter and lord I hope there's comfort in it, because we can't handle any more hurt.
> 
> Surprising us all, Alex Muse (yes, there's an actual muse for him now) decided to lighten things up for part two. He spontaneously introduced chaos and Angel Chip Toss. You'll see what I mean when you get there. Which forced me to introduce a Briathos to object, lol. But at that point we all needed a chuckle so it was good. (See, this is why muses are so much better than me slogging through the part, writing lines myself. Spontaneous Angel Chip Toss FTW!) <3

**Chapter 11**

Gabriel huddled on the floor for some time, a shadowed mass smeared against the blur of the bed. He was not feeling very Archangelic. He was low and weary, worn, as if the mountain pressed upon him. No matter how he moved it bore down cruelly, mighty and dark. Most keenly it ground within his chest, gouging some unbearable break in his breastbone.

Gabriel rubbed his chest, but there was no wound. He shifted on the floor, restless, hurting. These were not injuries he could ease.

He ached for the embrace of his twin. Naturally, Michael would have nothing to do with him, now. Any embrace would likely begin with claws and end with cries of surrender. Even those seemed preferable to his current state, though. Gabriel leaned against his bed, brows drawn low and mouth pulled in a frown.

_Brother,_ he sent across the distance. _I am sorry._

There was no reply.

Gabriel let his lashes drift closed. It served him right.

Eventually he did reach out. He must search for Alex. Angry or not, the boy was still his responsibility.

He found the boy downstairs scrounging for food. It was not yet lunch, so there was nothing in the mess hall. Alex would be hard-pressed to find anything, and if he bothered the others, he would be harshly turned away.

_You don't feed me,_ the boy had protested _. I'm not a pet._

Well, in this case Gabriel most certainly did need to feed the boy. But he decided to let Alex learn this lesson on his own. Gabriel stayed where he was, making the human wander fruitless and frustrated through the compound. That would serve _him_ right, for storming off in such a way.

In the meantime, Gabriel should be productive. Or at least try. he called out for someone to repair his armor, clean their clothes, and replace his bedding. He checked messages and went through to answer important ones. But his heart really was not in it. His mind wandered.

_I'm not a child. I'm not a pet._ The boy clearly had issues with being belittled. But he _was_ a child and a pet, to Gabriel's kind. Plus, Alex failed to understand that "pet" was actually a notch above where most humans fell on the spectrum. Several notches, really, considering most humans these days were prey.

Gabriel's musings turned back to Michael. He wanted to go get Brother and bring him to the Aerie. Just to have him close. It was foolish—Michael would not stay, of course—but it was very strong. Gabriel wrapped arms around himself, reaching into the robe, fingers digging into the long wound across his ribs. He should get it at least bandaged, or he'd stain the fabric. Part of him didn't want to, though.

He dimly recognized this hurt. This was a nasty, lingering kind he had not suffered in a very long time. The harsh rejection, the denial of "family," was terrible to him. First Father, then Brother, and now . . . well, Alex didn't count. He was just the little shit that Brother called his Chosen One.

Gabriel took a breath. Damnable little things, Chosen Ones were. Fragile little fucking things that died. He was best to get rid of this one as soon as possible.

Despite himself, he checked again on Alex. The boy had made his way now to Noma's cell. Ah, the human hypothalamus speaks! Eat, sleep, or fuck, was it not? The primary drives of the monkey brain. Noma was asking Alex what Gabriel had done. He was telling her, but vaguely. He was ashamed of what they'd done. Ashamed of being beneath the great Archangel, splayed beneath him, taking his cock, _moaning_ as it drove in.

_You are an idiot, boy._ Gabriel thought the words, but didn't send them. _The average human should_ be _so lucky, to walk around with a belly full of my seed._

In Gabriel's head, his Sister stirred vaguely, asking about when she could draw the Chosen One's markings. He told her to do it now, then afterward, fetch him back upstairs for a little corrective belt therapy.

She queried if he were alright. . . .

And he ignored her.

He stared moodily at the wall, instead. Fucking little fragile things. He was no good with them, anyway. Might as well give this one back to Brother and be done with him.

He thought about flying all the way to Brother carrying Alex, with damaged wings and exhaustion baying like psychotic hounds. He shook his head; he'd never make it.

Once doubt entered his mind, it made a home there. Gabriel rubbed his forehead as disquiet began to prickle. What if he never brought Father back? What if he could not unwrap the boy's markings? What then?

What if he did translate them, and they said, "Do not bother me?"

What if Brother never forgave him for damaging his toy? What if Alex told Michael only of the pain, never the healing?

He would be without any family at all. Just his Lieutenants, who, while loyal, did not love him. Not the way Brother did. Not the way Father . . . had?

That word hurt so much he sucked in a breath. Not "had." It could never be in past tense.

In the distance came a vague sort of squawking. Gabriel frowned. It was Alex, through the link, and the noise was irritating. Gabriel checked on him again, only to find that Sister had made him strip. She wanted to see all the marks. Big deal.

_Be silent,_ he sent firmly.

_She's all feely!_ came Alex's fiery reply. Gabriel pictured the caveman again, keeping her at bay with his waving, burning brand.

_I don't care, Alex, if she is using you for stud. Be quiet._ Gabriel snorted when he said it, though. The odds of that were slim. He added: _And bear in mind, she is ten times stronger than you._

He sank back into his dark musings, but the commotion from Alex did not cease. Gabriel picked it up as curses and spikes of protest, which as time progressed became first more vicious . . . then more frantic.

Annoying. Very hard to brood properly with such interruption.

At last Gabriel pushed through the link and placed himself directly into Alex's body. He opened his mouth to demand what was going on—

And found constriction, choking. An immediate clench about his neck, shoulders, and wrists. His ankles, too, were gripped by coils of soft, fibrous material. Soft, yes, but not comfortable, and the longer it held, the tighter it got. Not just air but blood was cut off, and he was suspended several feet off the ground.

Glancing around with badly blurred vision, Gabriel recognized the private studio he had given to Urial. As his—Alex's—eyes semi-focused, he spotted Urial herself sketching his writhing body with her peculiar, keen focus. A tuft of blond hair was tucked behind one ear as she worked.

Alex felt him enter. Mental fingers locked in panic on Gabriel's shoulder. _Stop! Make it stop!_

Gabriel's first response was fury, not at the boy but the situation. First things first: _Relax your shoulders, Alex. Stop tugging; that's probably why it's so tight._

Alex's fingers dug in like little human claws. _Your goddamn fault—!_

_I am on my way down._

Gabriel leapt into the hall. _I am going to kill her,_ Gabriel decided. Never so fast had he descended the multiple flights of stairs and tunnels between himself and his Sister. It still took several precious minutes. It was not time that flogged him, though; it was the loosening grip of those human claws. By the time he reached the bottom, they had let go.

When he burst into her studio, Urial was still blithely drawing, unaware of her subject's precarious state. Gabriel did not bother to speak to her. He rushed for Alex, seized him by the midsection, and jerked him from the hook meant to suspend her chandelier. To his horror, however, he found Alex limp and unresponsive in his arms.

"Give me your fucking sword!" he roared. Brushing aside Sister's breathless excuses like, "he was wiggling," and "only up there for a minute," Gabriel hacked the ropes away.

_Fucking fragile goddamned mortal beasts. . . !_ He narrowly avoided flinging the sword at her once the ropes were gone.

Even freed, Alex lay motionless on the floor. Gabriel seized the boy in his arms, noting first the ugly grooves about his neck, then the uglier stillness of his chest. He rubbed the latter vigorously with a palm, as one might a stillborn pup.

Alex did not stir. He was not breathing and there was no discernible pulse.

_I swear, Urial, I swear I will gut you this time. And if I don't, Michael surely will. Of all the stupid fucking things to do!_

He could not get a response. Gabriel's face pulled in an agonized grimace. Why did Father make them so god damned frail?! His Sister had killed his Brother's beloved pet.

The only good part was, there were different levels of death. Even after the heart stopped, the brain went on functioning—at different levels—for some time. __

Gabriel reached through the link again to call: _Listening for your heart is getting old, Alex. I know you're in there. That was not nearly enough time for brain death._

He hoped.

He sat down on Urial's massive green bed, crunching papers and evoking protestations. He clutched Alex close against his body. The boy was now but a stringless puppet: body stiff and wooden; head, arms, and legs dangling helplessly. With a single, warning glance toward Urial, he extended his wings and wrapped them tightly around what remained of Alex.

He transmitted into the silence of the boy's head: _You really don't want to die, now, Alex, do you? Brother will be so incredibly vexed. And you know what they'll say: "Oh, Gabriel, he has no idea how to keep Chosen Ones alive."_

Gabriel felt his own jest backfire on him. He stiffened and wrapped his wings tighter, taking a deep breath to quell the surge of unexpected pain. Trying to make light of it, even so many centuries later, still didn't lessen the blow.

Gabriel's fingers tightened on Alex's chest until the pointed nails drew blood. Smelling that, hastily he relaxed them. _Damn you, Gabriel. That doesn't help matters._ He lowered his face to the boy's skin, kissing away the tiny ruby beads. They did not flow.

Being down here did not help matters, either. He could not work calmly under Urial's curious stare. He snatched Alex's robe and carried the boy out, moving quickly through the tunnels and up a stairway. He found himself near Noma's cell, of all places. That was fine. It meant semi-privacy closer than his own room, and she would want to see the boy, anyway.

"Pervert!" she greeted him caustically.

Gabriel's throat was tight. "It is not what it looks like." He dismissed the guard, who was happy to go. The angel probably sensed something was wrong, given Gabriel's expression or voice. At this point, Gabriel did not care. More importantly, the guard closed the door behind him, screening off the cell area.

"Psh, not what it looks like," snorted Noma from her bunk. "Why's he naked and half-hard, then?"

"Constriction of the neck."

Suddenly she was on her feet. "What? Is he breathing?"

"No, actually." Gabriel sat down across from her cell.

_"What?"_ Noma reached through her cell bars. "What happened?" __

Gabriel curled his wings around Alex's body and resumed giving healing. "I need you to be quiet."

"Lemme see him. Lemme touch him!" Noma's hands stretched out.

Gabriel scooted forward so that she could reach. She clasped Alex's hand and stroked his face.

"Oh my god," she whispered. "Alex!"

"Quiet." Gabriel closed his eyes.

_Concentrate. Concentrate._

There was no hint of Alex's mind-form. The part that had gripped his shoulder through their link was unconscious. Or gone. There was nothing for him to latch on to, other than the vague and fading, automatic processes of a body.

_Concentrate, Gabriel! The body._

He reached in, listening and feeling. There was a pulse of activity in the chest, not exactly what he would call a "heartbeat," but more of an electric flutter. He could grab hold of it, though. Gabriel stroked his thumb across Alex's chest and began gently to take control of the heart. He felt as if he were holding it in his cupped palms. He urged it with his mind: firmer, stronger spasms. It was an "iffy" proposition at best; autonomic responses always were.

"You can't 'possess' him back to life," Noma whispered.

"Watch me," he growled.

The heart did need a jump-start, though. Urging it was one thing; it needed energy to complete the act. The body had none left. Gabriel took a deep breath and reached into his inner core. Well, wasn't this a pleasant flashback. Hadn't he just done this, for hours, when the boy was in a coma?

He poured his own life-force in. Again. This time he used a double handful, more than he should have, but he wanted to be sure. Even as it transferred, he knew it was too much. And didn't care.

To his immense relief, that did the trick. Alex's heart gave a shudder, then the chambers began to squeeze. Not only squeeze, but to squeeze in sequence. Gabriel gasped so loudly, he realized he had been holding his own breath.

Breath, yes. Lungs. Gabriel moved his attention outward, taking control of those next. He made them pull in lungfuls of sweet, clean air. That was easier. Once they were restarted, thank god, he was able to let go and they too continued on their own.

Gabriel opened his eyes. Noma was staring at him. Her arms were around Alex, but she was staring at _him:_ that tigers eye gaze fixed, puzzled, maybe even a little frightened, demanding answers he absolutely never would give.

"You didn't just do that," she accused.

"No, of course not," he agreed. Exhaustion sat heavily upon him, now. He half-turned so that she might still reach the boy, but he could lean against her bars.

The question emerged as just a whisper: "What the fuck did you do?"

Gabriel simply shook his head. He wrapped his wings tighter around Alex. There was still work to do. The boy was not fully healed. The boy was not even awake.

She stared at that—at him—for several minutes. Finally she reached out and brushed her fingers across one of Gabriel's wings, as if to point out unnecessarily how it was wrapped around Alex's form.

"Are you doing what I think?" she demanded.

He answered in a flat voice: "It's part of my agreement."

"For the link?"

Gabriel nodded.

She gave a low whistle. "You really earned that link."

"So did he."

There came a pause. Then, with a harsher edge, she asked: "So how'd you almost-kill him today?"

"It wasn't me. I saw at a distance and raced across the Aerie to get him." Gabriel leaned his head back against the bars. He felt so incredibly heavy.

"You're responsible for him. So it was you, either way."

"I suppose." Gabriel cradled Alex on his lap. The boy still was not rousing. Did he need another dose? Would he not come around? Gabriel took a few moments to recover, then did it again. With a shuddering breath, he reached into himself for a bit more precious life-force. He touched Alex's chest to push it in, to let it trickle and mingle with Alex's natural energy.

Noma watched closely, trying to perceive exactly what he was doing. "Does he know you're doing that?"

"The wing-love?"

"No." Noma stared right at him. "The _other_ thing."

Gabriel grimaced. "No. And I would prefer he never does."

"Why?"

Gabriel shrugged one shoulder. "It's private."

"Why do you do it?"

Gabriel shook his head. He had no intention of explaining his reasons to Noma, assuming he ever understood them all, himself. The first reason started with "Father" and "markings." The second reason started with "Michael." And then they all trailed off and became muddy after that.

Noma seemed to sense that. She glanced up from beneath worried eyebrows, then finally turned her attention fully back to Alex. She called to him, first shaking him, then patting his cheek.

"Perhaps pressing your breasts to his face would work better," Gabriel suggested dryly.

She screwed up her mouth at him. "Really? You went there?"

Gabriel examined her cell instead of answering. Like a pragmatic magpie she had gathered a few trinkets: deodorant, toothpaste, a brush, energy bars, a couple books, and some lipstick. "Where did you get those?"

She glanced over her shoulder at them. "Personal favors. Some of your people owe me."

He raised an eyebrow.

"C'mon, Gabriel, we've all been family for thousands of years. It's not like, twenty-five years ago, the two of you split and suddenly nobody remembers each other."

Gabriel frowned.

"I don't think you need to _whip_ anybody over toiletries. Right?" She flashed a grin at him, but it had uncertainty behind it.

Gabriel grunted. He wrapped his wings more firmly around Alex and concentrated on healing. No, on "wing-love," which he'd always said was degrading, which he'd always rejected with humans. And which he now was apparently doing in front of everybody.

Gabriel felt ashamed. But at the moment, somehow, Michael's Chosen One seemed to be more important than both his pride and his own wellbeing.

Something in that told him he needed to reevaluate his priorities. But at the moment, ironically, this was more important.

A few minutes later, Alex did stir. At first it was only the fluttering of his lids, but then consciousness came flooding back. He sucked in a halting breath and shielded his throat with both hands. As more awareness came, he gave a wild cry of panic—his last emotion before he'd gone out—and jerked away from the wings.

Gabriel's instinct was to pull him closer, but that did not help when you were the source of terror. Panic's natural alchemy turned it to rage, and Alex lashed out.

Gabriel winced as the human kicked and struck his half-healed wings, reopening the piercing-wounds. He pulled them back quickly, staring at Alex in shock.

"Asshole!" Alex shouted in a gravelly voice. "You fucking asshole!"

"What did I do now?" Gabriel was bewildered.

"You let her hang me!" Alex rolled out of his lap, clutching his own throat. Immediately he staggered and went to his knees. Noma reached to support him.

"I most certainly did not."

"She hung me!" Alex's declaration was nearly a squeak.

"Sister is just . . . unaware, sometimes." _Why am I making excuses for Urial?_ Gabriel wondered. _Because she's an Archangel, and he a mere human._

"More torture? Was that the plan?" Fiercely Alex glared upward, pressing his back to Noma's cell to keep himself upright. "More visions, was that it? Or did I piss you off, running away."

Gabriel simply gazed at him, knowing anything he said would be disbelieved. Alex was set in that mode and would not be dissuaded. The boy had to blame someone, and Gabriel was it.

Gabriel sheathed his aching wings. A bitter sort of sadness filled him, along with acceptance.

Alex bared his teeth. "Not even going to answer? Fuck you, Gabriel."

Noma reached for Alex through the bars of her cell. "Alex, he just—"

"He did it on purpose." Alex gripped her hand tightly, holding on as if he were drowning. "He's a fucking monster, Noma!"

"Alex," Noma insisted. "Gabriel just—"

_Let it go, Noma,_ Gabriel sent. _In every story, someone has to be the villain._ He opened Noma's cell, so that Alex and she could embrace. Noma wrapped her wings around Alex, but she was staring at Gabriel, frowning and shaking her head. __

_Honestly,_ Gabriel added, _I'd rather he not know what I've been doing._

_You're a dumb ass,_ Noma objected. _Alex is loyal to those who help him._

_He will never be loyal to me,_ Gabriel pointed out. _I'm the madman and mass-murderer, remember? And that is absolutely true._

Noma just gazed at him helplessly.

_Besides, the boy may have a point. I am a monster. A few acts of mercy cannot equate with centuries of bloodshed._ Slowly Gabriel got to his feet. It hurt to move, now.

_No, they can't,_ Noma replied, _but a special one can mark the point in a story where the villain changes his ways._

Gabriel laughed out loud at Noma's remark. _Noma, sweet Noma, we both know that's not going to be the case. Someone_ has _to be the villain. Else there is no story._

Noma stamped her foot. _Fuck the story, then!_

Gabriel gazed down at her in sad amusement. _Fuck it, indeed. I'm all for that._

It took them several minutes to get Alex steady on his feet. Noma helped, but she was also distracting, in Gabriel's opinion. Alex was regaining strength rapidly—thanks to wing-love and multiple injections of Gabriel juice—but he also needed rest, food, and comfort. Not necessarily in that order.

Gabriel watched Noma pet and hug the boy. Alex seemed inclined to join her on her bunk, rather than put on his robe and join him in the hall as he'd requested, several minutes before. Gabriel scowled.

At the moment, Noma was petting the marks on Alex's rear, which were still stark from the punishment earlier. Gabriel was vaguely satisfied to see the healing had not lightened them, at all. Apparently there were more important things to heal.

He checked the time. "Come along, children, it's lunch," he told them. "Time to feed the pet."

Alex bristled anew. " _Fuck_ you, Gabriel!"

"Yes, boy." Gabriel threw the gray robe so that it draped over Alex's head. "Don't you ever get tired of that?"

"Not really, no. I've been kinda saving them up over the years." Grudgingly Alex got dressed.

Gabriel sighed. "Good to know."

  
  
  


* * *

  
  


Lunch was fun. Alex and Noma followed Gabriel to the main table. Neither of them was in chains, and Gabriel had previously instructed his kind not to touch Alex without permission. Somehow Alex had figured this out, so used it as open season to torment the angels around him. He intentionally bumped into others, snickering when they tried to pull back. Once he managed to trip not one but three of Gabriel's soldiers by zigzagging unexpectedly across the room.

When they were seated, Alex invented a new sport: angel chip toss. The meal was sandwiches with potato chips. Alex apparently only had appetite for his sandwich, because the chips rained across the dining hall nonstop. The higher-ranking the angel, the more points they were worth, apparently.

"Your monkey is throwing things," Nero informed him in Angelic.

"I noticed." Gabriel sat with his fingers steepled. "I had hoped ignoring him might remedy the issue."

"Breaking some fingers would remedy the issue."

"Yes," Gabriel agreed. "But hold off on that." He cleared his throat and addressed him through the link: _Alex._

_Fuck you, Gabriel._

_You are not earning happy-points for your species, right now._

_Like I give a shit. You know everyone in this room would gut me, if they had a chance._

Gabriel looked around slowly. It was . . . well, it was perfectly true, actually. Even without the animosity of potato chip missiles. Every single individual, sans Noma, would quite happily slide a knife inside the boy's pelvis, jiggle it upward to the collar, pull the guts out, skin the boy, and triumphantly bring the hide to him. Gabriel tapped his fingers together contemplatively.

_If you don't sit quietly, I will embarrass you,_ Gabriel promised.

Alex's chip-throwing paused. He glanced sidelong at Gabriel. _Embarrass me how?_

_Let us not find out, shall we?_

Alex ate the next chip. _They're not very aerodynamic, anyway._

_No, truly they're not._ Gabriel relaxed a bit. "Wine," he called.

_Who drinks wine with chips and sandwiches?_

_Someone who is overstressed and overworked,_ snapped Gabriel. _You try having hundreds of angels in your head, then see how mellow you are._

_No thanks!_

But apparently the drama was not quite over. Briathos, one of his high-ranking soldiers, had taken offense to the potato chips as well as the tripping. He stormed over, beard bristling and eyes flashing. "I want that beast beaten!"

"Calm," Gabriel advised him in Angelic.

Briathos switched to English: "I want his tattooed little ass striped so badly he can't walk!"

Gabriel switched to English too. "I've already beaten him once today." He leaned back in his chair, rubbing his forefinger against his thumb.

"Troublesome little shit. Beat him in front of us, so we can see it."

There came a low chorus of agreement from the angels nearby.

Gabriel leaned back, eyeing Alex sidelong from his chair. "They want you beaten, Alex."

"Well fuck them," Alex shot back.

Hissing started, rising in crescendo all around.

Gabriel crooked his finger, missing the leather wrappings which usually adorned his wrist and hand. "Come."

Alex visibly hesitated. _You're not gonna—_

_Come, or I'll make you come._

Noma was tense; he could see it in the stiff way she sat, as if preparing for a fight. So he sent to her:

_And you, Miss Angry Eyebrows, stand down. He shan't be beaten for the crowd. I'm not that sort of tyrant._

Alex got up slowly. Gabriel, observing him closely now, did notice the limp. The belt had left its mark in a way he could not quite hide. Although he certainly did his best.

Alex crossed the short space between them, coming to stand cockily next to Briathos. He was wary, but acted as if the other were not there. He kept his eyes on Gabriel. Privately he whispered:

_If this guy jumps me—_

_I will promptly break the table with his head._ Gabriel smiled pleasantly. _He has his orders. And he will obey._

Alex stared at him as if trying to determine whether he were joking.

Gabriel gestured gracefully to Alex. "Strip."

"Oh, not _this_ shit again!" Alex groaned.

_Do it,_ Gabriel commanded silently.

_You know what?_ "Fuck you, Gabriel."

"Briathos, you may strip the human." Gabriel steepled his hands again.

Briathos was only too happy to rip the robe off Alex. Before Alex had even jerked back, he had gripped the boy by the back of the neck and jerked the robe halfway off. Briathos was efficient that way.

Alex snarled, elbowing Briathos viciously in the ribs. Briathos looked down and raised an eyebrow to Gabriel.

Gabriel shook his head.

"Behave yourself, Alex," Gabriel suggested. "Now, everyone have a good look at the boy's backside."

Everyone leaned over to view Alex's handsome rear, which was less handsome now marred with a mass of dark, brutal lashes. There was no mistaking it: someone had beaten him. The mass was primarily purple-black, with areas of blended yellow and green denoting the edge of what had originally been belt-marks. There was also swelling near the right and left hips, where Gabriel had struck the hardest. The skin there was puffy and red.

"As you can see," Gabriel pointed out coolly, "I have already beaten the boy once today. It would be pointless to beat him again. I want him to savor what I've wrought."

Briathos grunted.

"Let him go, Briathos. To my side, Alex."

"To your fucking side," gritted Alex. "You can fucking go to fucking hell!" As soon as Briathos released him, Alex snatched up the robe from the floor and covered himself.

"Be a good boy," Gabriel coaxed him, in a mocking tone. "Briathos wants to break you. I'd prefer you in one piece. Easier to train, that way."

"When Michael comes back," growled Alex, "he is going to fucking _kill_ you."

Gabriel shrugged. "He will just be happy to have his toy back, Alex. He won't _care_ what condition you're in, so long as you can suck and bend over."

There came snickers from all around.

Alex growled and turned on Briathos, who was staring at his rear, not having been able to get a good look earlier. "What're you lookin' at?" he demanded.

"I wouldn't," Gabriel cautioned him.

Briathos gave Gabriel another of those, "Can I, please?" looks. Gabriel shook his head again.

"Fine," Briathos grudgingly conceded. "He's been beaten. I withdraw my request. But at least put him in the floor, where a human properly belongs."

The suggestion roused such a chorus of agreement, Gabriel was taken aback. He looked around at his people, who were all staring at the belligerent monkey baring its teeth at Briathos, the honored soldier. Gabriel rubbed at his face, considering it, then nodded. "Fine. Bring me a floor pillow for his poor arse."

Alex stiffened, whirling on Gabriel. There was hatred in his eyes. "You're gonna make me—"

_Not now, Alex._ Gabriel called out loudly: "Where's that wine I ordered?"

"Are you fucking kidding me?!" demanded Alex.

Briathos tossed a floor pillow beside Gabriel's chair. He smirked at Alex and returned to his seat, satisfied. And the drama was over.

Except Gabriel had to get Alex's arse _on_ the pillow. He took a deep breath. _Two ways, Alex._

_I'm not gonna. Fuck you. I'm not a dog and I'm not sitting on the floor._

_You're a human, and in our society that is often equivalent to a dog._ Gabriel reached gratefully for the wine as it was delivered. There were several glasses, so numerous people helped themselves. Stress was apparently rampant, these days.

Then Gabriel added: . . . _Except dogs are loyal._

_Fuck you, Gabriel._ Alex's inner voice was starting to sound strained and pinched.

_Sit, Alex. You know I'll make you._

_Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you._

Gabriel hazarded a look. Alex was trembling behind his chair. He reached deeper through their link and felt Alex cringe back. _Easy._ He coupled the word with steady pressure, the sensation of a hand at the back of Alex's neck. The boy was full of misery; his rage was cooling and crumbling to pain, now that the threat had backed down. This was something Gabriel had not seen before.

_You will not put me down this way._ Alex clenched his fists.

_Alex? You put yourself down this way. You behaved badly._ Gabriel kept his voice steady. _Sit. And I will keep you by my side. No one can touch you._

_You won't treat me like a goddamn V-1._

_I don't even know what that means._ Gabriel crooked his finger. _Sit, before Briathos decides to put you there, himself._

Alex shifted forward. His eyes went to Briathos, who was indeed watching closely, then back to Gabriel.

Gabriel quietly poured another glass of wine and clinked it to the floor near the pillow. He glanced slyly over his shoulder. _. . . A bribe._

Alex stood over the pillow. Gabriel placed a steady hand on his shoulder and pushed downward, lightly. He spoke in a coaxing tone:

_Don't make me force you, boy. Just relax, and let it happen._

Alex closed his eyes. He exhaled and sank down, easing himself painfully to the pillow.

_That's better. Much better,_ Gabriel praised him. He tangled his fingers in the blond curls, hidden beneath the table. _Now you're safe._

_You've got a strange definition of "safe,"_ mumbled Alex.

_Do I?_ Gabriel trailed fingers down Alex's far shoulder. _If Briathos wants you now, he has to come within wing range._

_Wing range?_ Alex looked up at him, confused.

_Remember the wound on my side? Imagine that, across his face._

Alex's eyes widened in realization. _And here in the floor, my head would be under the strike._

_Mm. Clever boy._ Gabriel leaned back in satisfaction. _Drink your wine._

Of course, Briathos had been satisfied, and would never challenge him in the first place. But he had made his point. Gabriel handed Alex the remainder of his sandwich and let him grow accustomed to his new position.

Even with reassurance and food, though, Alex was still uneasy. Gabriel watched him shift on the pillow, weave back and forth, half-lift himself, and look around. He could not settle.

_Calm, Alex._

_I can't._ Frustration and uneasiness hit him like a sheet of heated pins. _Everybody sees me on the fucking floor._

_Calm, Alex! You are annoying._ Gabriel placed his hand heavily on the boy's head. _You are a human. My people are_ used _to humans on the floor. It's tradition._

_Fuck that, Gabriel, this is embarrassing. What's next? Gonna make me eat from a dog bowl?_

Gabriel's hand softened on Alex's head as he perceived the depth of the boy's shame. _I gave you wine,_ he pointed out quietly. _That is usually only given to equals._

_Oh, gee golly, don't I feel equal, now!_ Alex's sarcasm cut through.

_Alex?_ Gabriel took a breath for patience.

_I know. I know._ The words were bitter. _Now you make me._

_. . . Yes._ Gabriel reached through their link again. Alex cringed as usual, but Gabriel kept his touch light. This was reward, he reminded himself. Alex had behaved, Alex had done as he asked. He sent calm and pleasure, letting it spread through the human in gradual, alluring waves.

"Oh, man," Alex whispered aloud. He started to slump on the pillow right away.

Gabriel pulled the boy against him, tugging his hair fondly. _There's a good boy. I told you there were benefits to behaving._ He continued sending the mix, pumping it through their link so thickly that between his influence and the wine, Alex ended up leaning against his knee in a sort of bliss-state.

Gabriel didn't mind. There were worse things than a handsome pet draped across one's knee. He sipped his wine and watched the others chat.

Now, this situation was far better. The ache in his chest was getting better. He could get things done. Gabriel went through more waiting messages in his head. He reopened communication lines.

As he worked, Gabriel ran fingers through the boy's curls. He didn't realize he was doing it until Nero, who was sitting beside him, leaned over and murmured, "I think he's asleep, Sir."

Gabriel looked up, realizing that most of the others had dispersed and, yes indeed, Alex was asleep. "Thank you, Nero. You may be dismissed."

"I'm waiting to take Noma back to her cell, Sir. She's lingering."

Gabriel nodded. "What are you waiting for, Noma?"

She rose from her chair and approached. For a second he thought she was bowing or kneeling to him, but of course not—she had slipped to the floor to put her arms around Alex.

Gabriel leaned away to give her room. The moment he did so, the moment he ceded Alex to Noma and symbolically transferred him from "pet" back to "person," Gabriel realized something was amiss. It stirred deep within him before rising to the fore: he missed this. He missed a pet at his knee. The revelation was unexpectedly triste and tight in his chest. He sat pondering it, rubbing at his breastbone.

This was similar to the pain of earlier. Could it be just some lingering effect of that? He tried to shake it off, but it was persistent. He _missed_ this.

He eyed her, where she held him against her body. Alex stirred drowsily, half-turning to rest his head on her shoulder. She smiled, kissing the side of his head.

"Think my legs are asleep," he whispered.

Gabriel stared up at the ceiling. So much for feeling better. Every bit of their sweetness made him sick. And the boy was so eager to indulge in it. Disgusting. He tapped on the thick boards of the table, then pushed at the remnants of lunch.

A few seconds later, he realized Nero was watching him. Gabriel straightened, hardening his expression, concealing any hint of emotion.

Alex looked up at him. "Can we spend the night together?"

Gabriel's immediate response was, "Of course not!" but he made himself pause. The words unsaid, he wondered why they were so vehement, why they tugged at his innards like tiny iron hooks. What was the matter with him?

Gabriel gazed down at them, curled on the floor pillow together. Noma had kept his secret, earlier. He owed her. Alex had finally behaved himself. So, in a way, he owed him, too. And Alex had actually _asked_. Not demanded, not yelled, but asked.

More importantly, Gabriel needed to bring water to his wayward Brother. Water . . . and swords, if he dared. So he needed some time to himself.

"If I say 'yes,' will you stop acting as if everything I do is centered around personally causing you harm?"

"Maybe," replied Alex grudgingly.

"A few less f-bombs, a few more 'yes, Gabriels' would be nice."

"Don't push it."

Gabriel waved his hand. "You may have tonight. Take some sandwiches, chips, and the wine. I am locking you in for the night. Nero, find a bucket for one corner of his room."

Alex looked puzzled. "Why a—? Oh."

"Because you are locked in." Gabriel ruffled Alex's hair roughly, causing him to grimace.

"What if there's a fire?" Alex pointed out.

"Nero, if there's a fire in that section, break the door down and free both of them."

"Yes, Sir."

"See? Problem solved." Gabriel flicked his fingers. "Go."

Noma gave him a suspicious look, with one eyebrow quirked.

Gabriel sent to her: _What you saw earlier? Let's call that a "private moment," shall we? Our little secret._

She nodded subtly.

"Enjoy your evening. I'll be along in a few, to lock you in." Gabriel intentionally looked away, so he did not have to watch them walk away together.

This was going to be a very long night.  
  
---


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> >.> It's not a real chapter. I did it again. Go read Damning the Flood - Part II

I am evil! And yet you keep reading.

Because you love me. Or perhaps just can't stop reading.

Either way.

Chapter 12 is "[Damning the Flood - Part II](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4718147)"


	13. The chapter in which G & M talk and talk and talk, and then fuck and fuck and fuck, and then Michael surprises the hell out of me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Continues where "Damning the Flood - Part II" leaves off. Gabriel is still in the desert with Michael. Michael expresses a bit of his opinion on how Gabriel has been treating his boy. *ahem* But generally it's low violence, low pain. (This chapter is here, not attached to "Damning the Flood," because most of what they talk about is Alex, and this story is about Alex.)
> 
> Scene 1 is rated Hard R, for kissing and erections.  
> Scene 2 is rated NC-17, for M/M sex.  
> Scene 3 is rated WTF, because Michael Muse just pulled it out of nowhere and I was not expecting it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rated Hard R / NC-17 / WTF
> 
> This was another chapter that kept adding on another 1000 words every time I edited it. Strangely enough, it also kept un-editing itself and reverting to previous versions, so I'm copy/pasting it now before I close the Ywriter program. I think all this Archangel twincest has broken my software. 
> 
> **Opinions Needed:**  
>  I'm having a really, really hard time drawing this work to a close. If I am to follow canon, and/or actually "fill in" between seasons 1 and 2 (which was my original intention), then at the end of this, Alex needs to hate Gabriel and want to kill him. But I just can't quite bring myself to do it. The temptation for a happy ending, or at least some sort of satisfaction between Alex and Gabriel, is just too strong. I would like to hear your thoughts, O Readers, if you have any. Solutions? Ideas? Alternatives? Opinions?
> 
> Gabriel Muse is of the opinion that we go "full AU" (alternate universe) and "fuck canon" (his words, not mine). lol

**Chapter 13**

". . . Gabriel? Gabriel!"

The distant voice was distorted; odd echoes chased it through his mind. Gabriel felt his brow wrinkle in confusion, soften, then settle to a frown. The voice was vaguely like Brother's bratty boy. But it was fading. . . .

He turned over and pressed up against Michael. Michael's arm curled around him, tugging him close. He nestled that way, content and comfortable, as several more minutes flitted past. This was paradise. He didn't need an expensive bed. He only needed Brother.

At length, Gabriel's eyes cracked to find the blinding gleam of morning. The white sand was cursedly bright beneath an unrelenting sun.

"What kind of fool sleeps in the open desert?" Gabriel grumbled. He rolled onto his stomach.

"Our kind." Michael scratched fingers through his short, dark hair. He yawned, one wing lifting from Gabriel's back. Immediately the sun jabbed him with hot fingers. Gabriel groaned.

Michael murmured, "How are you?"

Gabriel thought about it. His heart still ached but it had become tolerable, especially with Brother right here. "Better," he decided.

"You need a bath."

"Mm." Gabriel picked up a handful of sand and let it trickle through his fingers. "I will get right on that."

Michael chuckled.

Gabriel extended his own wings—slowly, carefully—to test them. The healing ash had done a good job, but not a great one. He could fly most likely, but they'd be sore. Far better to stay here a week and recuperate. But Brother would not hear of it.

Michael, as always, knew what was inside him. That long, lean body curled on top of him in heavy, gradual imposition. Two elegant hands reached, grasping, massaging those stiff wing joints. At first Gabriel hissed, then began to moan as the pain dulled to grudging delight. He lowered his head, offering himself to be manhandled.

"You are _won-_ derful."

"I know." Michael chuckled again, a warm sound. He nipped the back of Gabriel's neck. "Now let me treat the wound on your side."

"No."

Michael was not to be denied; he tugged Gabriel's robe up. "It looks terrible and smells worse. It's infected."

"Leave it be." Gabriel let stubbornness enter his tone. He twisted beneath Michael so that he lay partly on one hip. 

Michael yanked Gabriel's robe completely off to view the extent of the gash he'd given. Gabriel glanced down as well. On his left side, a ridge stood vibrantly crimson and painful against the flesh. It stretched down the ribs nearly to his hip, with puckered edges and puffy, discolored blotches between. Brother was right: infection was rampant.

"You _must_ let me treat this." Michael's voice was flat. He prodded a swollen area, making Gabriel grimace.

"I did not burn feathers for your cuts." Gabriel gritted the words, gliding his palm along Michael's still-marked arm. "I did not force you to heal your penance. Do not force me to heal mine."

Michael sat back, shifting his weight to Gabriel's buttocks. For a long moment he sat there, casting shadow over Gabriel. Then came his somber question: "Will there be more?"

"No. Not any time soon."

"Do I have your word?"

"Yes."

"May I ask the cause?"

Gabriel stared at the ruins of the adobe structure. "The suffering of Chosen Ones."

There came the sound of Michael licking his lips carefully. "Plural?"

Gabriel grunted.

". . . How badly did you hurt my boy, Gabriel?"

"You really do not want to know, Brother."

There came another pause. "And if I do?"

"The cat-o-nine tails would not be sufficient." Gabriel lowered his head grimly.

Michael stood up. Gabriel watched him pace through the sand, calmly pick up the flogger, and return with it. He winced, realizing what Brother was planning. But he himself had brought it, so this was his own doing.

Michael sat down in front of him, with the cat-o-nine tails laid casually across his lap. "What did you do, Brother?"

"I linked him. We are connected now."

The muscle in Michael's jaw twitched. "Yes. I bet that was fun."

"No," Gabriel spoke sincerely. "Hardest link I've ever done. And I regret what I had to do."

Michael blinked in surprise. "That is something I did not expect to hear."

"He should have been born an angel," Gabriel stated. "He has a warrior's spirit."

A tiny smile hovered on Brother's mouth. "I will tell him you said that."

"Please do not."

"So you hurt him, in the linking."

"I beat him harder than I have ever beat a human. Or nearly any angel." Gabriel stared into Michael's eyes. "I have never found resistance like that."

Michael took a deep breath. "You mean, beat him mentally."

"Yes, mental/spiritual. In a mind-world, shaped like Vega. I think I broke every bone in his body, there. But still he would not give in."

The muscles around Michael's eyes tightened, as if he wanted to wince. "That's my boy," he whispered. "Why so brutal?"

"I left my polite invitation cards at home."

Michael gave him a flat look. So Gabriel added:

"Honestly, Brother, the boy hates me. He was dead-set against linking from the start."

"How did you win him, then?"

Gabriel looked away.

"Brother?" Michael tilted his head. "How did you finally vanquish him?"

Gabriel licked his lips uneasily. He shifted his wings in the sand, looking up again at Michael with embarrassment.

Michael's eyes flitted to Gabriel's wings, then back to his face. He shook his head, not understanding.

Gabriel cleared his throat. "The boy . . . needed healing."

"Yes, and?" Michael still did not get it.

Gabriel lifted his wings with a sigh. "The boy . . . got healing. In the way he is accustomed to, apparently, because some other Archangel addicted him to it."

Michael's mouth opened into an "O" shape. Then it closed. His hands folded in his lap. He blinked several times, then his cheeks went a little pink.

"No idea who might've done that," Gabriel added dryly.

"You . . . won him over with wing-love." Suddenly Michael was holding back a smile.

"One might say that, yes."

"You, Gabriel, the one who proclaims it unnatural and the lowest in bestiality. Won my boy over . . . with wing-love." The smile was definitely at the corners of Michael's mouth, now.

Gabriel scowled and sat up. "It is most definitely your fault," he declared.

"Alex, my dear . . . innocent boy—"

"Oh, _don't_ go there!"

"—virginal and sweet—"

"Hardly!"

"—seduced by your nefarious wings—"

Gabriel launched himself forward, tackling Michael into the sand. Michael laughed, wrapping his arms around Gabriel's neck.

"Virginal and sweet," growled Gabriel fondly. "The boy moaned for it when I mounted him."

"Careful." Michael rolled his pelvis, rubbing up against Gabriel. "I share, but not always well."

Gabriel kissed him, his mouth pulling fiercely at Michael's. Michael grinned before kissing back, locking a strong arm around Gabriel's neck in the process.

_You_ want _him,_ Michael teased. _You want him badly._

Gabriel made a negatory sound, but ground himself against the hardness swelling through Michael's pants. He pushed away Brother's dark cloak, exposing the healing cuts along Brother's chest and arms. _Let me have you._

_Mm. Not yet._ Michael's tongue extended, gliding against Gabriel's. They stroked across each other, back and forth, slick and wet. Gabriel moaned, trying to get the upper hand, but Michael always seemed to have his tongue foremost, seeking Gabriel's lips, sliding into Gabriel's mouth.

_Damn you,_ Gabriel cursed.

_You like it._ Michael lifted one leg, rolling his pelvis again so that Gabriel could get a good feel for what he offered. _Unbutton me._ At the same time he spoke, though, Michael took hold of the cat-o-nine.

Gabriel's eyes rose to the flogger, then returned to Brother's gaze. He had a bad feeling about this. He pulled back from the kiss. "My penance is not enough?"

"I was going to see," Michael told him.

"Do it either for punishment or for play," Gabriel said. "Not both, Michael."

"You still have not unbuttoned my pants."

Gabriel frowned uneasily. He opened Michael's pants, allowing the thick column of his erection to escape.

Michael caressed Gabriel's cheek, smiling into his eyes. "There's a good boy. Lie on your belly, now."

Gabriel realized somewhere in there, Michael had taken control and he had completely missed it. He hesitated. "Michael, I'm not in the mood for rough."

"Only with Alex, then?" Michael tilted his head, lips pressed together.

Gabriel looked away. "I'm not rough with—"

"Don't." Michael's brow furrowed with the anger Gabriel knew had been waiting beneath. "I _know_ you. Do not pretend you are kind to the boy." He lifted the flogger. "Speak openly or under the whip. Either way, you are speaking. What is going on?"

Gabriel took a deep breath. He shook his head, feeling strangely lost on the topic. "I . . . would speak openly, Brother. But I honestly do not understand it."

Michael's brow wrinkled. "We shall start with the basics, then. Do you cause him pain?"

"Yes."

"How?"

"Every imaginable way possible."

"So psychological, physical, spiritual. Sexual."

Gabriel rubbed his temples. "Not so much mental/spiritual. Since the linking, I have focused on giving comfort. Mostly. But yes, physical and psychological." He ignored last bit, considering it part of "physical." Brother was just prying at this point.

Michael ran the flogger across his hands. "Why? For sadistic pleasure?"

"I suppose that's part of it," admitted Gabriel. "Sometimes to impose control. Sometimes to test the markings. Hell, sometimes just to make him behave." Quietly he added: "Then there are times I wonder if I hurt him, just to make him cuddle up to me for healing."

Michael winced. "Gabriel—"

"I know, that doesn't make any sense. With that last, it's not the hurting, but the closeness afterward I crave."

Michael's look became puzzled.

"Like yesterday," Gabriel added, "I made him sit at my feet. He didn't want to, and forcing him to do so should have brought dark satisfaction, but it mostly brought annoyance." He held up a hand to forestall Brother's objection. "No. It was the peaceful part, once he settled down, that brought me . . . Brother, it was the oddest sense of contentment."

"Gabriel!" Michael was angry again. "You can't _force_ him like that."

"Oh, but I can. And I do." Gabriel swallowed hard. "And it's awful. But feels fucking wonderful."

Michael's face twisted in a grimace. "Let him go. He's just a toy to you. You're doing him unspeakable harm."

"I am not sure he's just a toy, Brother."

"I am." Michael stood up. "I can tell by the way you talk about him. 'Make him sit at my feet' . . . 'hurt him so he'll cuddle.' He is just something you can hurt, manipulate, and fuck."

Gabriel sighed. "Then why do I feel so strange, Brother? What is the matter with me?"

"You're ill," spat Michael. "You just like to harm things smaller than yourself." 

"Harm them, then hold them and fix them again," whispered Gabriel. His heart felt very low. "I suppose."

Michael bared his teeth. His hand tightened on the whip.

"So whip me," murmured Gabriel. "I yield."

"No," snarled Michael. "That's too easy. You don't need a whipping. You need to get away from him."

Gabriel sat up very straight.

"I am coming to get him," Michael announced. "And my swords."

"You cannot have Alex."

"Oh I _will_ have Alex!"

"You cannot take him, Brother. You are still angry and in 'Flood' mode. I will not release him to you."

Michael's eyes locked on Gabriel's. "You will do as I say."

"I will not. Not in this case." Gabriel slowly got to his feet.

Michael stood staring at Gabriel, who stared right back.

The words even had surprised him. How dare he challenge Brother, about Michael's own boy? But once he said them, he meant them completely. He would not allow Michael to drag Alex off, when Michael was still in Flood mode. He simply would not allow that to happen. Not to Alex . . . nor to his Brother, who weeks later would bemoan what he had done.

"You are worried about what _I_ do to the boy?" Gabriel murmured. "I am equally worried what you will do."

Michael stiffened. "How dare you."

"I dare because I've seen it, Brother. I've seen it. And I bear scars on my own back, from your temper in the past."

"You presume I would—"

"I _know_ that you would. You are thousand times worse than I, when roused." He gestured for emphasis. "Brother! You are saying this to me _while holding a whip_."

Michael looked down at the flogger in his hand, as if surprised to find it there.

Gabriel reached out and clasped that hand. "Do you want me to remind you? Or simply help you envision Alex torn at your feet, begging for mercy?" He reached through their link, bringing up memories of Michael's past rages. He quite intentionally shared the anguish of lashes ripping an unprepared, undeserving back.

Michael winced visibly, stepping back.

Gabriel kept pressing: "Is that what you want? Alex won't heal like I will. And he definitely won't understand why."

He sent a single flash of Alex on his knees, head down, with Michael standing over him, whip raised.

Michael grabbed his wrist. "Stop."

Gabriel relented.

Michael growled, "So it's 'which of us is worse.' Is that the issue?"

"It would seem so."

There came a long pause. Michael took a deep breath. At last he lifted his head gracefully, gazing up at the sky. "I am nearly past 'Flood' stage, now."

"'Nearly' means little. Can you hold yourself in check?"

"Can you?" Michael demanded.

"I have been." Gabriel swept a hand across their prison. "Think of all the times I _could_ have hurt him, Brother. Could have forced him. Broken him. Beaten his flesh. Savaged him up against a wall, until there was nothing left of his spirit."

Michael's nostrils flared. He raised the whip.

Gabriel pushed the whip back down, murmuring close to his Brother's face: "Yet I _did not._ I was patient. I waited. Let him come to me. And I shielded him. Protected him from the others."

Michael frowned, but slowly nodded.

"Come get your swords," Gabriel concluded. "But not until you are better. Then we can discuss Alex."

"Soon," breathed Michael.

"Fine, soon," agreed Gabriel. "But you do not get Alex until you are better."

"I will get them in a week. In your quarters." Michael took another deep breath to calm himself.

"Yes, in my quarters, locked up as I said. Because of your brat."

Despite himself, Michael had to smile. "Because he used one on you."

"I said 'tried.'"

"I do hope you whipped him for that. Some things must not go unpunished."

"Belted. And actually that was part of a bigger deal. But yes, you know I prefer the buttocks. Less damage."

"Mm. Twice as bad, for Alex. He hates being humiliated."

"I've noticed."

Michael stepped back. "Just a short while, Brother. And I will be well."

"Wish I could say the same for myself."

Michael shook his head. "Your cure is to let him go. Study the marks and nothing more."

"My cure is to be close to you."

"Then do as I tell you."

Gabriel nodded but frowned. The words created deep dissatisfaction. He was inclined to do as he pleased, and the idea of letting Alex go left him unhappy. Especially since Brother had made it clear they would not spend any appreciable time together. Gabriel was alone, again. He would need some company. And right now? The captive boy was the only kind that presented itself.

"You will not stay with me, at my Aerie?" he tried again.

"I will not."

"Very well." For Gabriel, that sealed his decision.

Michael heard the defiance in his voice. They knew each other too well. "Do not defy me, Brother."

Gabriel ignored that. If he could not get Alex one way, he'd get him another. His tone turned light: "The boy has a fine body. You always could pick them, Brother."

Michael gave a long-suffering sigh and folded his arms.

Gabriel added: "And a fair cock, too, for a human. A decent size to grip."

"Brother."

"Did I tell you? I jerked him off in front of Noma."

"Now, that was just rude." Michael shook his head. "Did you at least give the boy climax?"

Gabriel was surprised. "I always give the boy climax."

Michael frowned, then admitted: "Well, you're doing better than I did, the first few times we were together."

Gabriel looked up. "Humans are easy to bring climax."

"They're not."

"The males are."

Michael shook his head again. "You must remember, ours was not a sexual relationship for the longest time. The first time he expressed interest in that, I was so worried about hurting him I could barely touch him."

Gabriel smiled. "He's tough, Brother. You have to do a lot, to hurt him."

"No, you _don't_." Michael shot him a stern look. "He can take a lot of pain, but it does _not_ take much to cause pain. He's fairly sensitive."

Gabriel looked down at his hands. "I can try to be gentler."

"I prefer that you leave him alone!"

"That's not going to happen, Brother. I would rather be open with you. You were right in what you said: I want him badly. And I don't know why."

Michael sighed. "It's the link, that's all. I've seen you like this, before. It happens, sometimes. You just need to taste his flesh, and it will pass."

"I've tasted his flesh," Gabriel noted, "and I only want more."

"More flesh? Or _more than_ flesh?" Michael waited tensely for the answer.

Gabriel thought about it. Very quietly he answered: "Both."

Michael gave a hiss. Very clearly through their link came the possessive word: _Mine._

"I know," answered Gabriel. "He's yours. And I've no business wanting more than his cock. But I think I'd like a grip on his collar, too."

"Just the collar?"

"I think."

"You think." Michael stared at the sky. "Brother, you're maddening."

Gabriel shrugged.

"He won't kneel to you. He kneels out of love," Michael told him. "I mean, he would kneel if I ordered him to, but it wouldn't be the same."

"I know the difference. Kneeling in love is _willing_." Gabriel smiled a little sadly, thinking of the resentful way in which Alex had sunk to the pillow at his feet. That had been because he had to, not because he wanted to. How much more satisfying would it have been, had Alex simply . . . done it, and smiled?

"Precisely." Michael's voice was quiet: "No power in the universe would put that boy on his knees, if he were not willing. You discovered that."

"A very strong submissive. I approve."

"The only kind I will accept." Michael's hand ghosted across Gabriel's hair.

"So are you going to whip me, Brother?" Gabriel reached for two strands of the cat-o-nine, letting them fall harmlessly onto Michael's thigh. "I will not obey."

"If I whipped you every time you ignored what I asked, we would do nothing else." Michael stepped toward the sacks. "However, I reserve my right to whip, after I see him."

"Fair enough."

  
  
  


* * *

  
  


Michael fished around the sacks and returned with two items. Gabriel's brows went up. "Are those for me?"

"On your belly," Michael ordered him. "There, in the shadow of the wall."

Michael's tone meant business. Gabriel exhaled, feeling a slow roll of heat go through him. He eased to the sand, listening to Michael strip. That roll grew tighter and thicker as he heard leather give way. It settled comfortably in his loins, which he pressed into the cool sand below the wall.

He stretched his wings out, too. Submission. No need for violence, Brother. I'm yours, today. His heart was pounding in excitement.

A tiny groan escaped him when Michael's weight settled near the small of his back.

Michael's words were a caress: "Shh, that's good." He kissed Gabriel between the wings. "No pain, today. Let's keep it easy."

Gabriel nodded acceptance.

The sudden grip of rope about his wrists brought another thrill up through his core. Michael wrapped it around and around, giving him the sensation of being securely bound. Gabriel groaned, pressing his pelvis harder downward. He was flushed and heated, finding relief there in the sand.

"Do you remember," Michael murmured, "how to tie an emergency release knot?"

"I do, but why?" Gabriel watched Michael tie one before his eyes.

Michael kissed his ear. "Because Alex can't rip his way from ropes."

Gabriel turned his head to stare at Michael sidelong. "I said I would be gent—"

"We both know you won't." Michael finished the knot and slid his palms down Gabriel's back. "I might as well teach you properly."

Gabriel blinked, rather startled by the change in topic.

"Alex's safe word is 'red,'" Michael added. "If he ever calls it, you will respect it."

"We haven't even mentioned safe—"

"Then shame on you." Michael bit his shoulder. "Before you even touch him again, you will establish that."

Gabriel shivered. "Y-yes, Brother." He was a bit confused, unsure whether this were a lesson or Brother being Dominant with orders. Probably both.

Then Michael laid down across him, letting his weight settle evenly on top. There was a long moment when it was pure comfort: Michael's body warm and heavy, Michael's wings on top of his. Gabriel exhaled, yielding beneath him, trusting his Brother's control.

Michael rubbed his cheek against Gabriel's. "You're very easy, today."

"Just enjoy it," Gabriel advised.

"Oh, I am going to." Michael's voice was amused. "You really meant it, when you said you aren't in a mood for rough."

Gabriel smiled. "Every so often."

"See what I can do." Michael slid his organ down, then, working it into the crack between Gabriel's thighs. It was semi-hard but swelling fast.

Gabriel closed his eyes with pleasure. He rocked, letting the smooth firmness glide against his thighs, his buttocks, and ultimately his testes. The light prod of every motion made him groan again. A little discomfort, yes, but so much enjoyment. Plus it gave solid reassurance that Michael was _there_ , and most certainly wanted him.

Michael breathed in Gabriel's ear: "With Alex. You must always be gentle. Do not force. Let him play. Let him come to you."

"Y-yes, Brother." Gabriel tightened his buttocks, trapping Michael against him. For answer, Michael pulled away.

Then Michael whispered in his other ear: "And for Father's sake do not ever push oral on him. You will lose him the entire night."

Gabriel nodded. "Brother, can we stop talking about your boy?"

"No." Michael's strong thighs parted his, causing another intense roll of heat. Gabriel caught his breath, arching backward. Michael breathed in his ear: "Today you _are_ Alex. I am going to take you the way he should be taken. Training for you. You will take notes."

"This is . . . really not what I had in mind."

"I don't much care."

Gabriel's brow wrinkled. Very well, two could play this game. "Fine. This rope is too tight," he complained. "I want to fuck Noma instead."

"What?"

"If I am Alex, then you must be Gabriel."

He heard Michael sigh. "Do not make this over-complicated."

Gabriel was not finished though: "I'm going to kill you, Gabriel. You're an asshole. When Michael gets here, he's going to kick your ass."

"He did not say that."

"He did."

"Oh dear lord," Michael groaned. "Father help me if he ever finds we agreed to let you watch him."

"He won't be happy, no."

Michael uncapped the olive oil. The rich, green smell rose on the warm desert air, bringing up waves of memory: nights curled together on expensive pillows, their bodies slick and heated, rocking close, tight. Locked together that way, moaning, crying out at times but always with some measure of joy, even if by necessity blended with pain. Joined and unified, overlapping. For hours.

Gabriel groaned softly. He parted his legs wider, feeling arousal flash all through him. "Michael," he groaned, "do as you will with me."

"Just like that." Michael sounded amused again. "No fighting? No bloodshed? Not even any cursing tonight?"

"You said I was Alex," Gabriel pointed out.

"Do you think Alex always submits so easily?"

"For the sake of simplicity. . . ." Gabriel rubbed upward against him.

For answer, Michael chuckled and gripped the back of his neck. "Fine. Which of us is in control?"

"You are."

"Then be still."

Gabriel made himself lie quietly, although it was a challenge.

"So quick to catch flame," Michael teased him. "Let us not burn out so rapidly."

"Not a chance."

"Ah, but remember, you're human." Michael nipped him on the shoulder.

Gabriel snorted.

"Human males only get one—or two, if they're lucky—shots at this," Michael reminded him. "After that, they lose their . . . interest. So you must make them wait."

"I don't do the 'wait' thing very well."

"Don't you?" Michael stroked his own cock in slow, sensual glides, letting the tip smear against Gabriel's back. "How hard are you right now?"

"Very."

"Ah, but I haven't even entered you, yet."

"Well, get to it!" exclaimed Gabriel. "I'm not going to lie here all day!"

"There, there," whispered Michael soothingly. "Shhh." He slid a slow palm down Gabriel's buttock. "Who's in charge?"

The words calmed him slightly. "You are."

"So relax for me." Michael eased down on top of him, letting his ponderous organ lie in the crack of Gabriel's thighs once more. "There."

Gabriel lay obediently, exulting in the feel of that thick shaft parting him. It was not inside yet, but so close. He dared to rock himself, rub himself again, but Michael gripped him by the shoulder.

"Be still," came the command.

"Yes, Michael." Gabriel subsided, relaxing on the sand and packed earth.

Michael stroked his palm up and down Gabriel's back, soothing him. "We'll have some light sex, today. No pain." He pulled Gabriel's bound hands down and kissed them. "Maybe help with that ache in your chest."

"It's better."

"But not cured."

Gabriel spoke quietly: "I simply don't want to be alone, Michael."

"You won't be."

Gabriel closed his eyes. "Please let me turn over."

Michael lifted himself. Gabriel rolled over, ignoring the bite of pain in his side. When Michael lowered himself again, it was an immediate, complete immersion. Face-to-face, Gabriel was enveloped in Michael: flesh, energy, spirit. He sank into the ground with a soft sigh. Yes. Perfection was becoming one with this ferocious, fantastic being.

_Take me,_ Gabriel begged.

Michael's brows rose in amusement. "Such a whore," he teased.

"It's so easy, with you."

Michael kissed him. Warm, soft lips found his; that broad lower lip swept firmly, teased, and locked. Gabriel swore it tugged on his very soul. He moaned, slipping his bound arms over Michael's head. His mouth was open and yielding, offering itself to his beloved other half. Michael gladly plundered that mouth with his tongue, thrusting in, claiming it with such erotic, gradually-deepening strokes that Gabriel could not help but part his legs wider and push up against him in raw, frustrated need.

_Dear god, Michael,_ please _take me! For godsake put_ something _in me!_

Michael chuckled wickedly, but kept it slow. The energy build was gradual, the fire creeping.

Eventually Michael did reach between them. One hand clasped around Gabriel's shaft, the thumb stroking beneath his head. He began to give long, lazy pulls which drew pleasure from all through his body, concentrating and focusing it up along his quivering rod. Gabriel began to arch and cry out helplessly with every slide of his hand.

"Shh, shh," Michael chuckled. "So ready to go."

"Don't tease, Michael!" Gabriel cried.

"I would not do that. You are just overexcited, that's all." Michael added some olive oil to his hand, causing Gabriel to arch higher, to offer his aching penis as a sacrifice to Michael's skill.

"Please, Michael. _Please,_ Michael!" Gabriel moaned. He arched off the ground, begging for more. Michael continued to look amused, and continued to stroke him, which surprised Gabriel since Brother rarely gave him what he wanted—particularly when he pleaded so.

"Easy. Take it slow. Remember you're human." Michael wetted three fingers of his other hand with olive oil. "Now that you're aroused, I'm going to stretch you. It will hurt less that way."

"You could beat me with a bat right now, I'd not feel it."

"Good." Michael's fingers slid across Gabriel's entrance. They teased over it, even as his other hand lightly stroked the shaft.

Gabriel groaned with joy, closing his eyes. If this was what Michael meant by "training," he could tolerate it. He felt one finger slide in, well-coated and slick. He pushed down on it, rolling his pelvis to move the finger inside.

"Oh, you like that," Michael teased him. He withdrew and used two, tugging lightly. Gabriel felt his thick muscles tighten, then yield at the entrance. "I will need you nice and loose, for me. Humans are not used to things like Archangels inside them."

"You can say that again." Gabriel pushed down on his fingers once more. "He clawed the bed trying to get away from me."

Michael stiffened. "That does not encourage me, Brother." Michael gave him three, and not as gently as before—driving them through the tightness. "Did you want this to become a fisting exercise?"

Gabriel flinched. "We . . . could."

"I do not _like_ to picture my boy clawing the bed to escape your cock. I really do not." Michael's voice had hardened, and those green tourmaline eyes had become piercing.

"I did let him go," Gabriel hedged.

"Let me guess: after you'd come."

"Pretty much, yes."

Michael gave him four—harsh and ungentle, wrenching open the muscle. Gabriel gasped, trying to pull away, but Michael's hand on his cock gripped him in place.

"Michael," choked Gabriel, "I thought you were training me, not punishing me."

"I am not sure I have enough oil to fist you properly," mused Michael. "This is going to hurt."

"You said no pain," Gabriel added.

Michael held him in place. His face was grim. "He clawed the bed to get away." He shoved his fingers deeper.

"Michael," gasped Gabriel. "I did let him go. I did."

"How do you like it?"

Gabriel grimaced. "I held him, Michael. Afterward. I calmed him and gave him comfort."

"Did it get you excited, to see him in pain? To see him try to get away?"

Gabriel shook his head.

"Did it?"

Gabriel stared helplessly into Michael's eyes. "Please, Michael." He arched, shuddering, as Michael drove his hand deeper. "You said _no pain_!"

Michael's nostrils flared. At last he relented, pulling away. "Mark my words," he growled, "one day, when I have Alex safely by my side, we _are_ going to fist you. And I will definitely let him help."

Gabriel swallowed hard. "I did let him go," he whispered. "I gave him healing, Michael. I wrapped him in my wings and held him close."

"Enough. Comfort after the act does not negate the act, Gabriel. Saying 'I'm sorry' after you rape someone does not fix that, either."

Gabriel closed his eyes. "It does not negate it, no, perhaps not. But it softens it. I take care of the boy. I make sure he is well."

"I don't want to hear anything more about it. It only makes me angrier, at this point."

Gabriel rolled onto all fours, presenting his backside for Michael. He knew at this point the concept of any kind of "gentle" sex was out the window. He was just hoping for some kind of release, at all.

"I did not tell you to move," snarled Michael.

"I figured you—"

"I am in charge. Lie back down the way I ordered you."

Gabriel did so, a little flustered.

"I am determined to train you, Gabriel, no matter what you do or say. This is for Alex, not for you."

Gabriel lay facing the sky, still with his forearms bound, legs parted. He felt Michael grip his cock again and begin fiercely to stroke it.

Gabriel grunted, closing his eyes. "If that is how you want me to stroke Alex, I can tell you he's going to whimper."

Michael's touch became softer. His strokes lengthened, taking in the whole shaft, then became shorter again, concentrating near the base of the head. "Careful," he instructed, "give strokes of alternating lengths. When you're ready for him to ejaculate, focus below the head, near the frenulum. That's where he's most sensitive. Mind yourself, because you can hurt him there, too. Pretty standard for human males. Never pinch or twist; he's not into that. When he's very close, he has this peculiar little writhe of the hips. You will learn to recognize it."

"Mm," grunted Gabriel. Michael was still stroking him, bringing him closer and closer. He gripped handfuls of sand, arching, rocking his pelvis into it. "Mm . . . frenulum. Yes. Ejaculation." He began to pant as clear precome dribbled down the shaft.

Michael stroked Gabriel _right_ to the edge, where he was shuddering with the pressure of release. . . . Then he stopped.

"Oh fuck, Michael!" gasped Gabriel. "No!"

"You don't _really_ want to release so quickly," Michael told him. "Remember, you only get one shot."

"Don't tease!"

Michael held the base of Gabriel's cock, watching while it withdrew from the brink. "Oh, I am not teasing. Trust me." Michael gave a dark smile. "You will come. Eventually."

Gabriel caught his breath. For some reason that sounded threatening.

Michael poured a dollop of olive oil straight onto Gabriel's cock, watching as the golden liquid oozed from the bottle and flowed in a sinuous, golden stream to pool and spill around the swollen, heated head.

Gabriel swallowed hard, feeling the oil slide over him. He laid back, closing his eyes.

"I am yours, Michael," he whispered.

"Oh, I know."

Michael straddled his waist, his weight once more heavy and secure on Gabriel's body. Gabriel took a slow breath, willing himself to relax.

"Yours, Michael."

"That's it. Relax into it."

Michael's hand grasped his cock again. Gabriel jolted, but Michael was only positioning him. Gabriel felt his sensitive head nudge against Michael's tight twist of flesh. He groaned, knowing what came next. He yearned for it, but dared not move until Michael said so.

"Do I thrust?" he whispered.

"Don't you dare."

Michael wiggled, smearing oil on his entrance and teasing the tingling tip of Gabriel's cock. Finally he pushed down, taking Gabriel in through his yielding tightness.

Gabriel cried out, pelvis rising instinctively, but Michael lifted himself in response.

"Stay down!" Michael barked.

Gabriel lay flat again, frustrated. "Please, Michael!"

"Down, or you'll not come at all."

"Am I still Alex? You torment the boy this way?"

When Gabriel had gone quiet, Michael pushed down once more. In doing so, he sheathed Gabriel in exquisite, smooth bliss.

"Oh, god!" Gabriel fought to keep still. Every fiber of him screamed to thrust upward.

"There's a good boy." Michael's eyes closed. He worked himself up and down, skewering himself on Gabriel's cock, nostrils flaring every time he plunged himself downward. Gabriel continued to keep still, but just barely. He watched Michael ride him, breath short in his chest, heart pounding with elation and nearly unbearable need.

Michael's cock twitched. The slit yawned wide and began to weep. Gabriel wanted desperately to lick it. He gave a heartfelt groan, knowing he could not reach it from here.

The sight of Brother splayed, pelvis slamming, mouth open in ecstasy, cock bouncing and dribbling above him, was far more than he could bear. Never mind the bursts of fire driving up his backbone and ricocheting to his groin, twisting tighter and tighter behind his scrotum with every thrust.

Gabriel sat up only to be pushed down again. "Brother, I cannot hold back!"

"You'd better." Michael seated himself deeper and leaned back, pushing down even harder. His large, tight testicles shoved down on Gabriel's pelvis. His cock jutted starkly above.

Gabriel shuddered, feeling the blend of joy and discomfort through their link. "Hurts," he managed.

"Wonderfully." Michael grinned. He began rolling his pelvis in a rapture of pleasure-pain. He rode Gabriel, growling as he ground it down to the root. He parted his thighs as wide as he could, pushing down hard. Gabriel felt the pain ratchet up through their link, and also knew the tightness swelling in Michael's desperate cock. His own body was clawing at the edge of release, leaking fluid inside Michael, his balls so tight he felt they might tie themselves in knots.

"For godssake, Michael, let me come!"

"Hold it back," Michael ordered. "I'm not done with you."

"But I can stay hard," Gabriel objected.

"Hold it back!"

Gabriel gritted his teeth, arguing with his own flesh. This body was based on the human male model—it was difficult to hold _anything_ back: words, anger, excuses, and most of all, sperm.

Michael bolted up and down, taking the full length as he did. He cried out, bucking savagely down on Gabriel. Then he began to tighten so hard around Gabriel that they locked. Gabriel gasped, squeezing his eyes shut. It would have hurt, had he not been so damned hot. Still, he had no permission to release. So he fought it, struggling against nature's normal response and against himself.

Michael's release, on the other hand, spattered thick and sticky against Gabriel's chest. He was drenched in the rich, sweetly-organic scent that was all Michael. Gabriel panted, clinging to the last of his self control. His voice was strained: "Michael?"

"Hold," whispered Michael. "I promise. I'll reward you."

Michael's body gradually relaxed. Gabriel felt him slide off. The next thing he knew, a sinuous Michael was sliding against him, stroking him, resting close. Michael kissed his breastbone, his shoulder, his throat.

"Did you come?" Michael purred.

"I did not," Gabriel replied stiffly. "You commanded me not to."

"Didn't think so." Michael's kisses worked higher, finding their way to Gabriel's lips. His mouth fixed to Gabriel's, firm and hard. He lifted himself and slid an arm under Gabriel's neck, straddling his body again.

Gabriel's wrists were still bound. He laid helplessly with his arms above his head, waiting for Michael to give him release.

Michael pulled back from the kiss. "Shh. Cool down a moment. Remember you're human."

"This is torture," opined Gabriel. "Perhaps we can drug the boy."

"Don't you dare."

"There are plenty of natural cures to give extended endurance. And I am _absolutely certain_ he would be on-board with it."

Michael nipped his lower lip. "Do not drug my boy."

"In better times we would just get three or four," Gabriel pointed out.

"I don't want three or four. Just the one." Michael lowered himself on Gabriel's body. He slicked himself anew with olive oil, then began to rub his cock across Gabriel's entrance. This time it was enticing: back and forth, teasing the thick muscle then pulling away. "You did very well, just now."

Gabriel was immediately back in the scene. He sucked in a breath, body lifting, head tilting back. His thighs parted obediently.

"That's it," murmured Michael. He shifted forward, gazing into Gabriel's eyes. "Remember you're human. I will give it slowly. I opened you earlier, so this should not be difficult."

"There is no way I can last."

"Then don't."

Despite what he said, Michael's cock—as always—was unexpectedly huge. No matter how often he took it, there was always a stretch. The moment Michael prodded it in, Gabriel pushed down. He gasped softly, letting it spread him to familiar discomfort-bliss.

"Easy." Michael kissed him again.

The wide-flared head slid in slowly. Michael took his time, inching it back and forth. Gabriel arched more the farther it went, until he was panting and straining at the corona, the widest part.

"Alright?" Michael whispered.

"Of course."

"Sometimes I roll Alex on his side—"

"He wouldn't, for me." Gabriel shoved down. The head popped inside.

Such glorious pain for such a glorious organ. Gabriel writhed beneath Michael, gasping raggedly. It passed in only a few moments, of course. Then Gabriel began bucking, sliding it eagerly back and forth. He could feel every vein, every ridge. Michael's forcing him to hold back had made him ultra-sensitive.

Michael shifted. He wrapped an arm around Gabriel's neck. "Surprised you offered."

"Didn't want to . . . injure the boy." Gabriel slid downward, taking him in.

Michael gave him a strange look. It was puzzled but strangely grateful. There was gratitude deep in those green orbs. Michael kissed him. "I love you, Brother."

Gabriel kissed back. "Then fuck me, Michael."

A grin spread over Michael's serious features. Those glorious, dark wings lifted. Even missing feathers, they held the dome of earth and sky within them. Gabriel partially closed his eyes, letting them bleed together like a night sky barred with clouds. He could see the energy woven between, like pinpoints of stars caught in constellations.

Michael shifted lower. The muscles bunched in his strong back and buttocks. Gabriel sucked in a slow breath and bent his knees, arching himself for it.

Submitting to Michael was glorious. Yielding to him, giving over control. Knowing that this magnificent creature owned you, in a very real way, for the entire duration of the scene. Michael never disappointed him. Injured him, sometimes, but never disappointed.

"Yours, Michael," he whispered.

It was the reason he had lain here, quietly, giving in to Brother's game. But now, he needed more. Michael knew this. Michael would give him what he needed.

Yes, Michael discarded the silly Alex game. He connected with Gabriel, stroking his spirit against his Brother's.

_The last lesson,_ Michael whispered, _is not to go in all the way._

_I know that lesson,_ Gabriel told him. _We learned it the hard way. He and I._

Gabriel felt their energy build, felt the rush of power that was uniquely Michael, uniquely Brother, sweep across him.

"Yesss," he breathed. He opened himself to it, laying aside his own, ragged shields. It felt like lava inside him, burning away layers of unneeded pondering, unwanted emotion.

Michael's hands shoved his shoulders down. He settled heavily on top, bearing down Gabriel with body and spirit. The two combined were heavier than the weight of that dome Gabriel saw above him. He lay passively, legs parted.

Michael filled him in slow, deep plunges. Taking his time. Claiming. Their energy churned together, back and forth, sloshing between them like fire on rough seas.

_Oh, god, we should have done this first._ Michael rolled his pelvis and gave a short series of thrusts, wings lowering for leverage. _What was I thinking?_

_Punishment and lessons about your boy._

_Ah, yes._ A hint of a smile touched Michael's mouth. His wings rose again. Back to the deep-claiming, the slow thrusts. Gabriel immersed himself in it, giving himself, opening wide. That hot cock plunging in opened him wide, making him shudder back yet spill forward at the same time to enfold it.

Finally Gabriel groaned and tugged the safety-release knot with his teeth. He freed himself from the rope and wrapped his arms around Michael's body.

_Didn't give you permission._ Michael's reproof was light.

_Need this._ Gabriel was still submissive, rocking beneath Michael, but he needed the embrace. He clung to Michael's body as they mated, flesh in flesh, spirit in spirit. He moaned aloud, letting Michael sear him inside with that huge, fantastic organ.

He drove against it. Harder. He needed more. He shoved down against Michael, burning himself inside. Michael growled, thrusting fiercely into Gabriel's churning current. His arms locked around Gabriel's neck as Gabriel's hands dug for Michael's back. They stared into one another's eyes.

Gabriel was wild, driving himself in ever more desperate shoves. He wanted Michael all the way. Only when he felt the bone of Michael's pelvis dig against him, did he stop. He lay staring wide-eyed, panting up at Michael.

"Shh. Shh." Michael was clasping his cheek. "Dear Father, Gabriel, you're going to injure yourself."

"I can't get enough. Can't get close enough."

"Close enough," whispered Michael, gazing down at him in concern. His hand slid down to find Gabriel's cock. "You need release, that's all. Come for me."

Gabriel arched into the touch. He actually whimpered, so acute was his need. He replaced Michael's hand with his own, stroking feverishly as Michael resumed giving good, deep thrusts. It really only took five or six; Gabriel was hanging at the edge, when they even began. He cried out suddenly, arching beneath Michael, then cried out again and again. He hit the orgasm like several large trees at top flight, each one leaving him blinded and reeling and unable to brace for the next.

Michael slowed his thrusts then eventually came to a stop, smiling as Gabriel released wave after wave of seed. "Mm, looks like you needed that," he teased Gabriel fondly. He started to pull back, but Gabriel grabbed for him.

"Don't pull out!"

"No?"

"Please." Gabriel lay there, sated and exhausted, but not satisfied. He gazed up into Michael's eyes, pleading. "Slide back in. All the way."

"Brother."

"All the way. I need the closeness."

Michael's brow wrinkled. He eased back in, but had other ideas. "Hang on."

  
  
  


* * *

  
  


Michael took a long look around the empty desert. He took a deep breath, then pressed his mouth to Gabriel's. _Five minutes._ He exhaled into Gabriel's mouth.

Suddenly, Michael was with him. Gabriel felt everything in him relax. There was nothing between them any longer—no skin, no barriers, no . . . anything. Gabriel was filled with an ebullient, overtaking elation.

Oneness. 

Against him, Michael stirred. Soft and curling and warm. _Close_ against him, where he belonged. Like before they'd gone flesh.

Very carefully Gabriel wrapped his physical arms around Brother's inert body. It would be fine for five minutes.

In the meantime, Gabriel's spirit slid against Michael's. With no barriers between, there was no shape to hinder them; they were like eels, or more properly amorphous clouds that shifted at will. They fit perfectly together, in ways flesh could not even presume to mimic. There was unspeakable beauty in this, unspeakable joy.

Michael and he stirred together for a time, then came to rest. They were both peaceful, now. The ache in Gabriel's chest had all but gone away. The anger in Michael's had faded.

_Must do this—_

_—more often,_ they thought together, amused because they could not determine which started and ended the thought.

Five minutes was nothing, a blink, a heartbeat. Reluctantly Gabriel lifted his physical face back to Michael's. He kissed deeply, feeling energy slip past his lips. Michael's green-tourmaline eyes opened, glowing and full of love.

"Better?" Michael whispered.

Gabriel nodded.

Michael pressed their foreheads together. "Never where others can see."

"I know."

Michael smiled. "Stay with me just a short while, Gabriel, then you really must be going. We can't leave Alex alone at the Aerie like this."

"I know," repeated Gabriel, closing his eyes. "He's a big boy, though, Michael. And he's armed with chips."

"That's very reassuring."  
  
---


	14. The hard chapter to write

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gabriel suffers the effects of his untreated wound. Alex welcomes him home with a pointed greeting. A short bit, 2802 words.  
> Rated R for language - no sex, very little violence.
> 
> And a teaser quote! because all the cool kids are doing it:  
> Alex stiffened. "Listen to me," he snarled. "I am going to kill you. And when I kill you, I am going to make it so awful, so terrible, that angels will scare their little bitty baby angels with the story for thousands of years. Do you hear me?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rated R for language - no sex, very little violence.
> 
> This chapter was very difficult to write. Gabriel doesn't want to let go of Alex, not even for a chapter. I'm trying to drive a wedge between them so they stick to canon (at least a little) for the duration of this fic. Then I'm going to "reboot" with a new fic that goes completely AU (or, as Gabriel terms it "fuck canon").

**Chapter 14**

Perilous. Unsteady. The room tilted underfoot, slipping and sliding beneath invisible oil of treachery. Gabriel gripped the door frame. Hearing it crack. Shifting, wings extending, balance kept.

He gathered himself, white-knuckled and gritting his teeth. It was fifteen feet to the bed, give or take. Just a few steps. Effortless, no?

He moved forward. Staggered, tripped over a pile of something—damn the boy!—and found the mattress edge. Familiar textiles welcomed his hand, but . . . no, not as usual. The comforting pile, the cushion of it, was absent. Had no one replaced his covers?

No matter. No matter; he could rest. Precious rest. He sank down with a groan. And yet, he discovered, relaxation was not his to be had.

Face-down he struggled, crawling in place, body caught in an unexpected current of rich-flooded fabric and turgid, engulfing exhaustion. His breath was catching high in his chest, shallow and strange. The edges of his vision pulsed with color, lurid orange and green, on every rapid, rogue slam of his heart. And his side, oh, his side. He was on fire, glorious fire, as if he were immersed in liquid metal from nipple to hip.

He drifted, letting the current carry him where it will. His fingers dug at the sheets. Torment rose and fell like swelling tide.

His head was heavy. He rolled it sideways, unable to lift it. The sheets . . . they were cool and sleek against his cheek. A sweet mercy. He closed his eyes.

Moments later, a harsh panting sound interrupted his rest. It was breathing: heavy, labored. Close. Minutes went by, then he realized it was him. No, the sound was bad. Gabriel, get up. He twisted on the bed, using his wings to pull his weight onto one hip. No, that was worse; brilliant pain rocketed through him. He gasped, arching away from it.

Only gradually did it settle. He slumped on the bed, groaning. He was back to where he was before: the pulsing vision, the liquid metal and partial immersion. But it was better, far better than the brilliance. He pulled his wings in tight against his body.

How long had he been away from Brother? Had he come straight home, or stopped for rest? Perhaps he had dreamt that part. Vaguely sweet grass came back to him—fresh and unspeakably-green, thick and soft beneath him. So too came the miasma of infection, ugly sickness clogging his side. It had hovered then, and it hovered now, heavily.

He had let the wound go too long. Penance was one thing, but this had shifted to self endangerment. He needed treatment.

He had to get up. His wings stirred slightly. That's as far as he got. His head sank back to the mattress; his body went slack. His lids fluttered closed.

_Some rest, then._

His eyes cracked open, squinting against a suddenly-blinding sun. Pale sand rippled beneath him and tawny rock rose all around. He was back at Brother's dam, deep in the desert. Perhaps he never left?

Nearby, safely ensconced in shadow, Michael dozed: a peaceful figure in repose, long lashes smudged, lips painted in a sweet smile. A wall afforded both comfort and shelter from the sun. Gabriel relaxed; warm relief bubbled from deep within. He pressed close, obtaining the same comfort from Brother. Yes, his side burned still, but it was far easier, now. Michael made everything better.

_I should have let you heal me,_ he murmured, but there came no response. Brother was deeply asleep. Gabriel went quiet, gazing across the shimmering sand.

As far as prisons ranked, Michael's dam was not bad. There were snacks, bondage, and sex, thanks to him. Gabriel smirked, thinking Brother surely owed him for this favor. Self-punishment would never be the same.

He lay quietly for some time, resting. It should have been relatively cool in the shadows, but was not. The heat permeated all, baking him, causing sweat to bead and roll down his forehead. Nausea gathered deep in his gut and tried to churn higher, like unwelcome ocean waves. The strange, throbbing colors returned to his vision. And the pain, yes, swelling higher and keener through his awareness. It sapped him of strength. Even pressing his shoulder to Michael made no effect.

He lay limply on his belly, resting wings in the sand. Odd heat waves chased one another across the surface, casting mirages of movement over ripples of earth. Gabriel stared at them with glazing eyes. Echoes of sound came to him from a distance, some like clatters, others like voices.

Gabriel lay still. The noises continued off in the distance. There was movement, across the sand. The flutter of something shifting behind the mirage. His eyes tried to focus but lost tracking on it. And again the noise. It did sound like a voice, did it not?

Movement again, and this time Gabriel did track it. A figure in gray robes, making its way across the desert. Tall and lean, but strong. Topped with blond curls and an angry expression. Sword in hand. And light, light. From this angle, it flickered with an odd, golden glow.

_Gabriel!_ came a shout. Loud, enraged, echoing across the rocks.

_That sounds like the boy,_ Gabriel mused. _But he should not be in the desert._ He squinted, trying to focus through the mirage, the pulsing colors, and his own, thick glaze. But the shimmering image didn't change. It kept coming, shifting sand with every footstep. It was focused on him. Eyes locked on him. He knew that expression, from days before humans had words: fury.

What had he done, to evoke such? Gabriel watched the figure approach. Finally he called out: _Alex?_

_Get your lazy ass up!_ was the immediate reply. Alex kept coming until he was very close. Then he loomed over Gabriel, sword in hand, waiting.

Gabriel rolled his eyes. Pushy. He got his wings and arms beneath him. He shoved upward, but stiffened as pain lanced through. He collapsed back to his belly, panting. Again he tried, gritting his teeth, feeling his arms tremble as they strained to hold his weight. Again the pain struck like razors, slicing open his side. He let himself fall. Now was not the time to push this. He needed rest. Once he had rebuilt strength, he could do it. He would not re-injure himself, just to obey the boy. He went limp and answered: _Later_.

Alex kicked sand over Gabriel. _Later? Fuck later! You have any idea what they've done to me, these past three days?_

Gabriel blinked upward in mild surprise. _It's been three days?_

That only enraged Alex further. _Get the fuck UP!_

Gabriel struggled to refocus his eyes. Alex's shadow loomed over him, now. He was pointing something—oh, the sword. Gabriel wondered if it were Empyrean steel. Probably. The boy was clever like that.

_You would not stab someone in the back._ Gabriel kept his voice low.

_No._ The sword whispered across Gabriel's wing. _That's why I'm waiting for you to get up._

  
  
  


* * *

  
  


Silence hung between them for several seconds. Then Gabriel exhaled, long and slow. He rolled onto his side, gasped, and forced himself to sit up halfway. The act left him panting again—gripping his side—but there was no choice. Something here was terribly wrong.

He fixed the boy with a somber look. _Alex,_ he spoke. He was straining to keep his mind clear—hell, even to keep his eyes focused. _What would Michael say, if you slaughtered his Brother right in front of him?_

Alex glanced around, eyes untrusting, uneasy. _Gabriel, there's no one here but us._

Gabriel lightly pushed at the sword, which was pointed at his breast. _We're in his dam. Of course he's here._

Alex moved it right back. _We're in your room,_ he snapped, _asshole. Now get the hell up, before your soldiers find me again!_

_Angry monkey,_ murmured Gabriel.

The words began to bleed together, strangely distorted, spilling together as Alex spoke: "You're gonna _see_ 'angry monkey' when I drive this through your wing! Now _get up_!"

"Don't, Alex." Gabriel mumbled the words. "You're being a bad boy."

"A bad—?" Suddenly Alex lunged forward. Sword still clenched in one fist, he yanked Gabriel by the robe and shook him like a blond earthquake. "What the fuck is your deal? Huh?"

Gabriel only hissed as Alex wrenched the wound. He pushed at the human, but the tirade was not done.

"You left me. Again!" The words were rage, shoved into him with shakes and jabs. "Told them to lock up Noma. Told them to _torture_ me." Alex's rage lifted Gabriel off the sand. "Couldn't do it yourself? Huh? Bored with it? Was that it?"

Gabriel blinked, absorbing the words dimly, struggling to comprehend. The desert was fading around him, giving way to dimness and strangely-comfortable furnishings. "Alex," he slurred, "I did no such thing."

_"Bullshit!"_ Alex roared.

Gabriel swallowed hard. "I told them not to touch—"

"Oh, right, told 'em not to touch me. Great detail, Gabe." Alex shook him harder, teeth bared in his face. "So they did _everything but touch me_. Darts, knives, candles, if you can throw it, they threw it. Very creative."

Gabriel stared at him in bewilderment. "Who did what, exactly?"

Alex stiffened. "Listen to me," he snarled. "I am going to kill you. And when I kill you, I am going to make it so awful, so terrible, that angels will scare their little bitty baby angels with the story for _thousands of years_. Do you hear me?"

"Alex?" Gabriel wiped at his own, sweaty face. "I've no fucking idea what you're on about."

Alex glared into his glazed eyes. Staring, probing, unbelieving. Seeking truth.

Gabriel stared back, fighting to make his gaze focus. He saw burn-marks on the boy's limbs: large red patches and roughened skin. Beyond that were dozens of punctures: circular holes in patterns, as if the markings had become a peculiar kind of dart-board. What had happened? Gabriel went to glide his palm across, but Alex slapped his hand away.

"I _will_ even the score," Alex hissed.

Gabriel's fevered mind tumbled over the evidence, tripped on the human's ferocious words, and hit the truth. He felt a slow, sick sadness settle over him. "I locked you in your room, Alex."

"Yeah." The word was bitter. "And Nero did just what you asked."

Gabriel felt his gut clench. Someone—and it was easy to guess who—had started a party while he had been away. He spoke, although he knew there was no point: "Alex, I did not order—"

"Save it." Alex shoved him and let go. The sword was still out, but no longer aimed at his chest. Alex had looked into him, and found him either unthreatening or unworthy to kill. Gabriel was not sure which was the bigger insult.

Alex began to pace, agitated. "Who's got the key to Noma's cell? Who do I gotta kill, to get her out?"

Gabriel's finger lifted. "I've a copy."

"So I've gotta kill you? Fine."

"No." Gabriel gestured toward one of his cabinets. "It's in there. —Alex!" His hand snared the boy's departing wrist.

Alex punched him in the face.

Gabriel took it with just a frown. The boy was strong, but nothing compared to Brother. He gripped that captive wrist. "Listen, you fool! If you go down there, they will ambush you. They will be waiting outside her cell. That's the logical spot."

"So I'll kill them all."

"Unlikely."

Alex tugged. "Let me go."

Gabriel didn't. "I will come with you."

Alex's eyes narrowed. "So now you're the hero? Come to save me? I'm not falling for that shit. Nice manipulation, Gabriel. Go fuck yourself."

Gabriel sighed quietly. "Boy," he answered, "it's not much manipulation. If I show myself like this, it's obvious weakness. One I can ill afford, if my people are bucking my orders as you describe. But I will go retrieve your pretty girlfriend, regardless."

"Why?" challenged Alex.

"Because it pleases me." Gabriel let go of his wrist. He really had no idea at all "why," other than he had to reestablish control over this situation. He rolled to the edge of the bed and sat up, groaning.

Alex backed off a few steps. He was all wary eyes and bared teeth. "I'm not falling for it," he announced. He attacked the cabinet instead.

"Fine," groaned Gabriel. He tried to stand, but found the bed had somehow chained him. He dug frustrated fingers into it, leaning far over the side, struggling to stand.

Alex watched him. In a guarded tone, the boy remarked: "I thought angels healed fast."

Gabriel stared up at his rifled bookcases. "We can choose not to."

There came a pause, in which Alex's curiosity obviously warred with his anger. Finally the former won: "Why in fucksake would you choose not to? That's an awful wound."

"Penance." Gabriel got his feet under him. "It is a big deal for our kind. Ask Michael about it sometime."

"I've heard of it. Like . . . punishing yourself, when you've done something really awful."

"Yes."

Alex circled the bed. He paced back and forth in front of the balcony, like a feral beast far from its familiar home. Waiting for him, Gabriel surmised. He braced himself against the bookshelves and willed himself forward. His legs were trembling under him, though. Betrayal.

Gabriel took long breaths, keeping down fury and frustration. This body was weak, when he needed it strong and assertive. What more could one expect, from a humanoid form? Innately flawed. Bipedal and stringy, awkwardly erect.

No. Blame the shape, but this was very much his fault. All those donations of life-force, all the penance he had forced upon it. Indirectly Alex's fault, too . . . but the boy could never know that.

"You can't. . . ." Alex stepped forward with a hand extended, then wrapped it around his head in exasperation. "You can't even fucking _walk_!"

Gabriel's eyes narrowed. He lifted his chin proudly. "Boy," he proclaimed, "do not allow the state of this flesh to confuse you. My angels would not _dare_ to contend with my spirit." He extended his arms, banging into the shelves. "I am _Gabriel_! Greatest among Heaven! King of the Heavenly Host."

Books cascaded down upon him. A particularly weighty work of Enochian poetry bounced off his foot. Gabriel gritted his teeth and ignored that.

Alex visibly bit his lip. "Yeah, okay," he mumbled. He watched as Gabriel stepped to the center of the room and unfurled his wings.

Gabriel took a deep breath. He opened his lines of communication, reaching out—

And Alex stepped up in front of him, arms folded. The words came clearly through their link: _Stop. If you do this, they'll know you're fucked up._ _Jesus, Gabriel, even_ I _know you're fucked up. And I'm not an angel._

Gabriel paused. _What would you know about it?_

Alex's voice melted into sarcasm. _What would I know about weakness? Lemme see._ The human transmitted a very distinct sequence of memories: being held underwater, repeatedly kicked to the ground, pinned to a bed and mounted, tied to a chandelier hook and strangled, forced to kneel on a pillow—

_Enough._ Gabriel extended his hand. For a moment he closed his eyes, chagrined. What would he know of it, indeed. Realization was sinking in, deeper than the pus in his side, and perhaps more painful. Gabriel had taught the boy nothing _but_ weakness, the moment he had arrived. Forced weakness, forced pain, and here it had come to turn upon him. Had this been the ultimate reason why he needed this penance? Here was the boy's suffering turned upon himself.

Gabriel lowered his head. Gracefully he folded his wings, frowned, and stared down at the human.

Alex stared right back, challenging him. _Look. You're weak. You're sick. I can feel it all through me._

Gabriel bristled anew at the words. _Through you?_ he demanded. __

_Yeah. My side is killing me and I have an awful f'ing headache. The whole room is like . . . weird colors and shit. If this is what you're feeling, I don't even know how you're standing vertical right now._

Gabriel's frown deepened to a scowl.

_Closer I get, worse it is. So. . . ._ Alex jangled the keys he'd obtained from the cabinet. "I'm going to get Noma. And I'm getting the fuck out of here. _All_ of you angels can kiss my ass."

"Alex," Gabriel whispered. "Don't."

Alex slammed the door on the way out.

Gabriel sighed and went to the bathroom. He ran the shower and looked for painkillers. This was not quite over. Not yet.  
  
---


	15. Gabriel Gets High

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rated R for language, blood, mention of male genitals, vague reference to rape
> 
> Gabriel uses creative methods to overcome his pain problem. Meanwhile, Alex needs to be un-killed again. Yes, again. Except Gabriel can't. Scene Two: Gabriel goes medieval on his crew. And introducing an original character: Domos. Who exists only to be tormented. Because why not? And because I got tired of typing "the angel" and "the accused."
> 
> Random happy quote:  
> " In the back of his mind, or the middle, or some part he hadn't quite found, he was listening to the boy scream. Oh, yes. They had caught him, of course: all teeth and laughing eyes, razor claws and wings. Dark, monstrous shadows hissing in their native Lishepus. Gabriel observed it all through the boy's ears and eyes, blocking out any tactile sensation. He was realizing from a human's point of view, his kind was truly terrifying. No wonder monkeys pissed themselves whenever angels approached.  
>  Well, that and the whole extermination thing. Right. Gabriel dug some soap out of his claws."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have to admit it was rather fun to write high!Gabriel. Guilty pleasure.
> 
> Scene 2 of this is hypothetically the "climax" of the story. Yeah, sorry, it's the best I can do. No flaming car chases or explosions. All downhill from here, folks!

**Chapter 15**

Thank Father for drugs. The monkeys? Good with buildy things. Good with art if you asked his Sister. Very good with drugs.

Gabriel slouched in the shower, glassy eyes half-lidded, seeping side exposed. Cool water streamed mercy across his wound steadily. He had taken three painkillers with half a bottle of wine. Finally the suffering had dimmed to ferocious throbbing, with the occasional reminder of shooting, brilliant firework-anguish.

On top of that, he felt fucking wonderful. In an odd, floaty kind of way.

In the back of his mind, or the middle, or some part he hadn't quite found, he was listening to the boy scream. Oh, yes. They had caught him, of course: all teeth and laughing eyes, razor claws and wings. Dark, monstrous shadows hissing in their native Lishepus. Gabriel observed it all through the boy's ears and eyes, blocking out any tactile sensation. He was realizing from a human's point of view, his kind was truly terrifying. No wonder monkeys pissed themselves whenever angels approached.

Well, that and the whole _extermination_ thing. Right. Gabriel dug some soap out of his claws.

Well, the current mess wasn't _his_ fault. The boy never listened. Gabriel had even predicted where they would catch him. Did it matter? No. Typical human.

Gabriel turned so the water poured fully across his swollen side. It was true, he had ordered his people not to _touch_ the monkey. So they had been forced to get creative. Hot wax at the moment, and the promise of flame, held close against the skin so that it reddened and bubbled. More was coming. Gabriel could feel it.

He watched them trap the boy, corral him in a corner with lurid, glowing fire. There was no physical sensation through his link, but he could sense—or imagine—their growing excitement, their control. He could also feel the human's fear, as his own control was ripped away. The angels had the upper hand. The human had no choice.

In an odd, secret way it . . . whispered to him. Deep in the darkest nooks of his soul. Gabriel exhaled, feeling himself stir. Slowly he extended his wings, sliding a hand down his slick belly. Helpless. Trapped. Cry out again, Alex. Cry out for me. . . .

He did not indulge it often, but here, relaxed and floaty—

No, Gabriel, that . . . no. He rubbed at his face, trying to clear his head. Not acceptable. After all, he was not actively causing the distress. And the human was . . . well, those angels were touching the human without _his_ permission. That negated any appeal. They were doing all of this without his permission.

They were touching specifically _his_ human without asking _his_ permission.

His . . . human. Gabriel's thoughts stalled out.

His . . . ? Oh, Brother wouldn't like that. Gabriel rubbed his forehead. Nooooo, Brother wouldn't like that at all.

Another scream came through the link. It was a relief, a change of topic. Gabriel shut off the shower and leaned against the wet tiles to rest. He sent the words calmly:

_It serves you right, you know. I told you not to go._

_Fuck you, Gabriel!_ came the miserable cry.

_All you have to do is say "please."_

No, Gabriel concluded, the true issue was, his people were violating the _meaning_ of his order. He said no touching, and that behavior was . . . well, it was tantamount to touching. And he couldn't abide that. He would have to make an example. __

Gabriel took another swig from his wine bottle, wandering into the bedroom. He searched for an extra set of leather. Oh, this was going to suck. Gabriel dragged a towel thoroughly across himself, to make sure he was dry. Then he began to pull on the damned leather pants. If he were going to face his people, damn it, he would be fully reinforced.

Another scream. Gabriel checked the boy's status. Oh, that was no good. They had him down, now, like a lamb for slaughter. Must have forced him to the floor by threatening to light his hair. That's how he would have done it, anyway. Gabriel peeked in deeper.

Wax splattered across his softest parts. The sound of laughter. The sharp intake of breath, the jerk of his body. Now they added flame—ouch. So that is why he'd screamed.

The angels were working their way to the human's genitals, taking their time. Gabriel decided he might want to get there before they reached their goal. He might have use for it, later.

. . . Or Noma. Noma could definitely find use for it. Resourceful soldier, that one.

Gabriel caught himself blinking blearily into a light. Right.

He managed to fasten his pants. Now for the top. There was nothing for it. Gabriel took another gulp of wine and went for it: arms up, pulling the damnable thing over his head, and—Republicans, Jesus, the fucking _pain_! Gabriel collapsed on the bed, sucking in air while his world spun. The compression of leather gave support, it was true, but dear Father the agonizing clench of it!

This was worse than the time he'd gone to battle with broken ribs. Michael had cinched his armor on him, that day. It was the same kind of compression-good-but-dear-god- _no!_ feeling.

Oh, how he wished Brother were here, today. Restoring order would not be an issue, were Michael by his side.

He retrieved his sword from the locked cabinet, belted it on, and added an old-fashioned scourge: the Roman kind, three tough cords knotted with metal balls. "Hello, old friend," he mumbled. Then he made his way downstairs, stiff, slow, and increasingly grouchy.

His path took him past the boy's quarters, or what was left: black-scorched hall, shattered door, and charred, wrecked room. Curious, though. Only the area just around there had been burned. Gabriel kicked a bit of sooty wood down the hallway, wondering which furniture had been sacrificed for the blaze.

Very poor behavior. Very poor. Yes, someone would become an example today. His fingers brushed the scourge at his belt. He continued down the hall.

As he walked, he realized he hadn't heard a scream in awhile. There was no visual input, either. Were the boy's eyes closed? Gabriel reached out, prodding Alex to see what was happening.

_Leave me alone._ The answer was almost inaudible.

_Unlikely. Are you ready for help?_

_Just leave me alone._ Again, the words were very quiet.

Gabriel frowned. _Well, if you refuse to ask, perhaps I shall leave you to your fate._ He couldn't though; Brother would never stand for it. Brother wanted him to watch over the boy, like some guardian angel on steroids. Gabriel's promise in the desert came to him—most acutely—through the haze of both pain and medication. _Is that what you want? Hm?_

_Now you want me to beg?_ Alex whispered.

Gabriel headed down the stairs toward Noma's cell. There was something in the boy's tone which caught him, again through the haze. _Perhaps you should,_ he replied in a neutral tone.

_Nothing is ever enough for you._ Alex's voice now sounded . . . hopeless.

Gabriel's brow wrinkled. No, something was very wrong, here. _I am coming for you,_ he announced.

_Just fuck off, Gabriel._ Again, there was strangely little fire to the words.

Gabriel descended the last set of stairs. He turned the corner and rushed the landing with cell access—then stopped short. There, curled in a little ball of pale, inked flesh and matted golden curls, lay the boy. Deep crimson blood, thick and growing sticky, smeared the space between them.

It was a path to his own folly: he was officially the worst human-guardian, ever. Gabriel felt ill.

He swept his eyes across the scene. No one else was here, but there were footprints leading away. Down the stairs, continuing the way he had come. He could give chase, but. . . .

Gabriel instead knelt over the human, pushing lit torches out of the way. His wings touched the floor to either side, dipping themselves in blood. The boy was balled up, pressing fists to his stomach. His breathing was rapid and shallow, his eyes squeezed shut.

"Shh, shh, now," Gabriel murmured. The tips of his fingers grazed along the boy's trembling hip. "How many times do I have to un-kill you, boy?"

_Don't touch me._ Alex's voice was weak but fierce.

Gabriel forced Alex's hands away to get a look. He grimaced then, knowing from experience the depth of anguish in which Alex was submerged. This was a gut-wound, gaping and bleeding and ugly. Designed to injure and cause misery, but not immediate death. He kept his voice low: "What happened?"

A wry, bitter smile touched Alex's pale face. _They touched me._

"Yes, I do see that." Gabriel sighed. He snatched up the fallen keys from nearby. In three steps, he had yanked open Noma's cell. "Not a word," he ordered her. "Rip up your sheets for bandages." Then he returned to apply pressure to Alex's wound, using this as an excuse to pull the boy against his own body. He could feel the trembling more clearly, that way. Alex was in shock. This was bad.

She was livid but silent. She did as he bid her, though, ever the good soldier, dragging the sheets out to the landing so she could sit and rip near Alex.

"Tell me what happened," Gabriel repeated.

Alex answered aloud, in a strained voice: "Fuck you."

"I know what happened," muttered Noma. "I heard everything."

"Tell me, then."

"They got bored with torturing him. There's only so much you can do, without touching somebody." Her voice lashed out with bitterness, accusation. Her brown tiger's eyes shimmered with embers. "What do you think happened next?"

"Obviously they stabbed him."

The embers flared in her eyes. "Are you seriously that dumb? It didn't go directly from flame to sword."

Gabriel's eyes narrowed. His voice fell to a dangerous note: "What else?"

She glared at him, refusing to speak the words. Instead she tangled her fingers in Alex's hair. She began to stroke him, as one might soothe a child. After a minute she whispered: "He bit the _fuck_ out of the one who did it. And good for him!"

Gabriel took in a slow breath, realizing what she was not saying. He looked down at Alex, who was curled tightly as if self-shielding. Deep within him, something was stirring: dark, vindictive, and . . . surprisingly, viciously, possessive. His voice lowered half an octave, swelling with the unmistakable note of command: "Give me names. Briathos? Surely not Nero."

She shook her head. "Some of the younger crowd. Briathos and Nero were involved in the initial mess, but backed off when things got wild. They're afraid of you."

"As well they should be." Gabriel growled, "Someone will account for this."

"That's fine to say," opined Noma. "It won't help Alex. He needs your . . . other thing." She gestured toward him. "Not the wings."

Gabriel hesitated. "Oh. That?"

Noma's eyes widened. "Now's not the time to say 'no!'"

"Hm." Gabriel began wrapping her bedding-bandages around Alex's body. He could not bring himself to admit he was too weak to donate life-force. As it was, the trip down the stairs had left him winded and dizzy. And he kept having to rewrap the bandages, forgetting which direction he was headed.

It was Alex, ironically, who mumbled: "He's fucked up, Nomes. Can't do wing-love."

Noma stared at Gabriel in shock. "You can't. You can't deny him now, Gabriel, he's . . . Gabriel!" She trailed off, brows drawing down the edges of her eyes. "Gabriel?"

Gabriel took an assessment of the situation, which was difficult on painkillers and booze. His instinct guided him somewhere safe and private, to heal his own wounds and wait for reinforcements. In this case that would mean his quarters, and perhaps Brother. Big problem: he could not drag Alex back in his current state, and Noma was too small to do so. How could he get the boy to safety?

His brain was moving very slowly. Brother's voice came to him, from memory: "Let him go. He's just a toy to you. You're doing him unspeakable harm."

Somehow he doubted this was the sort of "let him go" Brother had intended. Death on the floor from a gut-wound following torture. Gabriel began to laugh softly.

Oh, no, no. Abandoning the boy was not an option.

"Gabriel?" demanded Noma. "Aren't you going to do anything?"

"Too weak," Alex jabbed him. "Sucks, doesn't it, Gabe? Being weak."

. . . Although at times, it was tempting.

  
  
  


* * *

  
  


Weak, the boy said. Weak. Gabriel's laughter died away. His mouth tightened as thick, fierce resolve rose within him. He was an Archangel, damn it. _No one_ would call him weak—except himself. And least of all this mewling, curled-up, half-dead _monkey_. Slowly he climbed to his feet. He spread his massive wings, eyes narrowing. Blood dripped from the edges as he focused.

"Oh shit," Alex whispered, "yeah, he's going to do something, alright."

Gabriel opened his lines of communication. Everything at once. The weight of it made him stagger, but he gathered himself and lifted his head nobly. He reached out, projecting his voice and power to all in the Aerie:

_Attention! I want_ everyone _to report to the Throne Room_ immediately _. We're having a family meeting about the human. Nero, Briathos, by my side. Now._

A hush hit entire Aerie, as if the air were sucked from it suddenly. Then everyone began to move.

"Daddy's home," shouted Gabriel. "Pick up your goddamned mess!"

Noma slipped her arms protectively around Alex. "You know they're not going to support this. Defending a human against an angel? They'll say you're nuts."

"They'll say 'monkey-fucker.'" Alex rested his head wearily on her breast. "That's the word they used, when they were dartboarding me."

Gabriel's nostrils flared, ire rising like molten steel along his backbone. "That's the word _who_ used?!"

Alex didn't look up, eyelids heavy, head sagging. "Didn't stop to ask their names. One got a perfect score, though."

Gabriel gritted his teeth, nostrils flaring as his temper rose.

Suddenly Briathos' shape loomed in the stairway. Gabriel whirled. "Briathos!"

Briathos had been with him a long time, and he well recognized the fury. He went very still, only lowering his head in deference.

Gabriel descended on him, fist clenched in his face. "A fire, Briathos? Really?"

"No idea how that happened, Sir."

"Don't!" Gabriel chopped in the air to cut him off. "I've no time or patience for it. Get your ass over there. Pick up that human—gently!—and carry him to the Throne Room. One cry of pain and I shall take it from your back. Understood?"

Briathos' eyes flitted to the scourge on Gabriel's belt. "Yes, Sir." He slipped forward and crouched, picking up Alex as if he were made of rare porcelain.

Gabriel's eyes swept the stairs. His emotions were still fierce and molten. "Where the _hell_ is Nero? I shall see him flayed!"

From Briathos' cradling arms, Alex gave a loud groan. Briathos' eyes sought Gabriel's in obvious distress. He held up the boy to show there was no possible way he was causing harm.

"Alex," Gabriel snapped, "I am not in the mood, boy!"

They ascended to the Throne Room. Here angels were gathering as they had for the ice water demonstration: crowded and milling all along the columned sides and roof beams. They spilled through the great iron gate and packed the landing which led to the outside world. There was tension, though; the buzzing had a sharp note, and the looks given Gabriel's group varied from uncertain, uneasy, to even hostile. Candles flickered, pouring wild-whirling pools of gold as angels stirred and murmured. The center aisle was clear, though—a sign of respect to Gabriel.

As Gabriel neared his throne, at last Nero appeared at his shoulder. He was puffing for breath and harried and apologetic—more so, when he too recognized the fury. "Forgive me, Sir, I was answering a strange distress call. Apparently someone was bitten—"

Gabriel paused mid-step. "Bitten. Bring that individual before me. Right now."

"Yes, Sir." Nero disappeared again.

"And someone bring me wine!" Gabriel eased down in his throne, taking another slow breath as his side reminded him of penance and stupidity. "Briathos, place the boy on that pillow." He pointed to one directly beside his left foot.

"Woof," muttered Alex. His lids were very heavy, though. He lay curled and broken on the pillow, breathing like it hurt. His fingers gripped the edge, tight and clenching, as if holding on to this reality.

"We don't have time for this," hissed Noma, perching herself beside Alex.

"Of course we do." Gabriel gestured for quiet. When it failed to come immediately, he shouted for it, voice ringing from the high ceiling: "Silence!"

Into the resulting shocked stillness came the creak of his leather. Gabriel stood up from his throne, grimacing. He lifted his chin and focused his gaze—along with his impressive yet dwindling power—onto the assembled angels. As he did so, his bloody wings extended slowly.

_How dare you do this,_ he fumed inwardly. _How dare you question my authority. Damage my property. Harm my boy!_

There came the faintest stir from Alex, a sort of wordless protest, then it faded out.

Then Gabriel's voice rose, sonorous and rich, swelling with a long-accustomed, unquestioningly-claimed authority: "Discipline."

A tiny ripple worked through the assembled: whispers and the rustle of fabric, as they looked at each other. Gazes curious and uncertain.

Gabriel switched to their native tongue. "Discipline, and its sweet companion obedience, are the two things which set us apart from the lawless and wild, untamed humans. We obey, we follow orders, we serve. That is what distinguishes us. That is what dignifies us. That is what _makes us what we are_!"

The crowd waited, watching uneasily. Gabriel continued:

"As many of you know, I left briefly on business this week. During my absence, it would seem there came a certain . . . lapse in discipline. It caused some damage. We must therefore address it."

The room suddenly held its breath.

Gabriel pointed at Alex. "When I left instruction that this human was not to be touched, I expected the _nature_ of my order to be followed, as well as the letter. That is the very essence of obedience, wouldn't you agree?"

Another ripple. Angels were looking at one another, some confused, some very worried. Gabriel took note of the latter.

"Was it followed?" Gabriel challenged them. "Was it?" He tugged on the bleeding bundle at his feet, evoking a pained groan. 

_Don't, Gabriel. I can't._ Alex shuddered back from his touch. __

Gabriel straightened, raising his voice gradually to a roar. "Look what I came back to: a mortally-wounded, broken, _pitiful,_ goddamned _monkey dartboard!_ _Does it look like my orders were followed?!"_

The room shuddered around him. Gabriel gripped his throne to steady himself. He lowered his voice. "Tell me this, angels, my people: what value has he, if he dies before we can read the markings? When he dies, the markings transfer to someone else. Who? No idea."

Gabriel began to pace unsteadily in front of his throne. "Even if he doesn't die, there is significant damage to his skin, now. So I am left with quite the quandary." He gestured to the crowd, lifting his voice so that it rang, but did not shout. "I made this perfectly clear: these marks are Father's last message. They might be the _only way_ to return him to us. Yet here they are, damaged. Intentionally, wilfully damaged." He paused, drew breath, then bellowed: _"Who has done this?!"_

The ripple became louder, as angels murmured and peered at each other. Gabriel waited. After a minute or so, he cried:

"No one? No one at all set fire to my Aerie? Tortured the human? Damaged Father's message?" He pulled the scourge from his belt, evoking sharp gasps. "Perhaps I should flog the lot of you, until someone comes forward."

The front several rows of assembled angels pressed backward, crowding on those behind. Gabriel gave chase, pushing them even farther back.

"You have twenty-four hours to come forward. All of you, who committed these crimes. Or your punishment will be doubled. If no one comes forward, _I shall punish you all_!"

"It's just a human," spoke someone from the ceiling beams. "Since when can't we toy with humans?"

"Since I ordered this one to be _safe_!" Gabriel snarled. He crouched, and with a massive sweep of his wings, launched himself to the beams. Angels dove in every direction to get out of his way, including the one who had spoken, but Gabriel snared him by one sandaled foot. He snapped the scourge down across the angel's back, digging through layers of clothing. As he did, Gabriel's side reminded him tenfold of his own injury. He gritted his teeth and swept his wings again, hauling the wriggling angel backward with all his strength. He dangled the talkative one over that beam and struck him again, then again.

Ultimately it was the injury, not mercy, which saved him. Gabriel could not fly and wield the whip; it was far too painful. He let the angel go with three lashes and landed, holding his side. He took a few moments to catch his breath, then announced: "It was my order that was violated. This is about obedience, not a goddamned human! I gave explicit orders. I expect them to be followed!"

From the far side of the room, there came a stir. Nero had reappeared, gripping someone by the arm. He dragged the individual forward down the center aisle. The other began to struggle when he spotted the scourge—or perhaps it was Gabriel's face. Nero was unyielding, as Gabriel expected.

Gabriel's bleary gaze came to focus on the pair. So here was the "bitten" one. Here was the one who had violated Alex. His hand tightened on the scourge.

Speaking of the boy . . . Gabriel's attention was drawn to him. Alex's breathing was getting more shallow. Gabriel had that all-too-familiar feeling. He rubbed his own chest, feeling the tightness growing there. He would have to keep this short.

"Here is the individual you wanted, Sir," Nero introduced the younger angel he had in tow. Gabriel stared at him a moment, recognizing him only dimly: dark hair with bangs, blue eyes, too much mascara. He struggled for a name.

"Domos, Sir," Nero supplied.

"Domos." Gabriel regarded the angel coldly. He nudged Alex with his toe, reaching down mentally to clasp minds:

_Is this the one who tried to violate you, boy?_

But Alex tried to push him out. The answer was stiff: _I didn't say anything about that shit._

_Answer the question._

_Fuck off, Gabriel._

_Answer the question, Alex, or I shall rip him to ribbons simply for decorating my Throne Room._

There came a shocked pause. Then the final, defeated answer: _I'd . . . I'd have to see his dick_.

_. . . Why, exactly?_

_That's where the bite is._

Gabriel's eyebrows rose. "Strip him," he commanded.

"What?" yelped the accused, Domos, who now was flanked by Briathos and Nero.

Briathos didn't need that command twice. In less than five seconds, the accused was stripped and hurled onto his belly before Gabriel.

"Nice touch," acknowledged Gabriel, "but I need to see him."

Briathos lifted him back up, beard bristling in annoyance. Gabriel found there was indeed a very visible, round, dark red bite-mark on the angel's organ, close to the tip.

_Alex?_ prompted Gabriel.

Alex's eyes cracked open. _Yeah?_

_At least confirm this is the one who ran you through._

_Yeah. It is._ Alex closed his eyes again.

Gabriel reached forward. "You are the one who did the most harm." He clasped Domos by one shoulder.

"Who says?" cried Domos.

"That mark on your cock and the testimony of this human."

"Who's going to accept the word of a monkey?" demanded Domos, tugging backward.

There came a loud ripple of protest all around.

"There is also the testimony of Noma, who is a higher angel," growled Gabriel. "She witnessed the attack."

"She wasn't even in the room."

"I heard everything," called Noma loudly. "I heard the attack take place, and I know Alex bit his attacker. I know _where_ Alex bit his attacker, because you were howling about it. So. . . ." Her eyes went to the angel's groin.

Gabriel's hand locked. "That's enough for me. Extend your wings."

"N-no!"

Gabriel's eyes narrowed. He took a breath, gathering his will. He might be low on power, but he still had the wherewithal for possession. He reached out toward the accused, slipping easily into his unprotected mind. It was a matter of simplicity to freeze him in place, push his wings out of their sheaths, and drag them forward. Finally, Gabriel stepped up and grasped a handful of small feathers near the top.

"Oh no," he heard Noma whisper.

"Discipline!" proclaimed Gabriel. He wrenched the feathers out.

Domos screamed and collapsed to his knees. Everyone in the room cringed, but for Alex.

"Look, Noma," Gabriel called calmly, "feathers." He sprinkled them down on Alex. "I think some healing ash might be in store for the boy."

Gabriel returned for another fistful. At a glance from him, Nero and Briathos stepped up to hold the angel in place.

"Father's markings," he announced, and ripped the second handful away. _Now I see why Brother shaved them; ripping is really quite messy._

_Are you having fun?_ came Alex's faint question.

Gabriel thought about it. _Yes, actually._

_You're supposed to boil the chicken before you pluck it._

Well, at least the boy hadn't lost his sense of humor.

Someone offered Gabriel a bottle of wine—extended slowly, with his head down, as if he might decapitate him in the act of taking it. Gladly he snatched it and drank deeply.

"Yes, thank you. Where was I?" He strode back to Domos and gripped a third handful of little feathers from the poor creature's wings. "Ah, yes. Torturing the monkey." He wrenched that away with a vicious jerk. Then pulled off some long flight feathers. Then stripped off a few more with a twist. He ignored the angel's piercing cries and the others' growing horror.

Even Nero and Briathos were wincing as they watched. Gabriel gave each of them a very long, direct look. "There will be no more fires." He yanked out another handful of feathers. "There will be no more discipline problems." Another handful. "Am I clear?"

"Yes, Sir!" they answered together.

He ran his fingers all through the remaining feathers, combing through them. Domos shuddered violently.

"You," Gabriel proclaimed. "Oh, _you_ are going to be a good boy. Aren't you?"

Domos panted in a blind mix of panic-pain, dark hair in his eyes, mascara smeared and streaming down his face.

Gabriel leaned over him, enjoying the shudders. He breathed in the angel's ear: "You. Down. Behave."

Domos went flat on the floor. Belly to the stones.

"Good boy." Gabriel straightened. His eyes, then his pointing finger, sought out individuals from the crowd. "You, fix my bedding. You, my laundry. You, prepare the room adjacent to mine; Miss Noma and the boy will stay there. You are in charge of cleaning up the 'fire' downstairs. You are in charge of punishing the perpetrators. Twenty-five lashes with standard Roman scourge; fifty if they do not come forward within twenty-four hours. Am I forgetting anything?"

Nero and Briathos stood at attention. Neither said a word.

"Nero, chain this miserable excuse for a soldier to that column. He is to remain there for three days, as a reminder to everyone what 'obedience' means. Let him stay naked so they can appreciate the bite. Briathos, pick up this broken human and bring him upstairs. Noma, bring the feathers." He raised his voice. "All of you are dismissed!"

The room cleared faster than he ever remembered seeing. Gabriel scooped up some extra feathers from the floor and rained them down on Alex, who looked at him skeptically. Briathos hesitated as if afraid to interfere with the feather-shower, then swept in to pick up Alex.

"Carry on!" called Gabriel. He marched upstairs, leading the way, sipping his wine.

_You are totally high right now,_ Alex accused him.

_I most absolutely, certainly am. Care for some wine?_  
  
---


	16. The hardest chapter of all

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rated R for language and mention of "cocks and boobs"
> 
> *Exhales* okay folks, this is the end. Don't worry, there's more coming. We're going AU, just in another file. Link at the end of this.
> 
> Gabriel retreats for recovery but finds himself wounded in a whole new way. Alex has a few significant things to say.
> 
> Random quote:  
> "Alex's eyes did not give way. _How much more do you want of me?_ he demanded. _I gave you my broken bones. Shit. I even gave you my broken spirit. Did it matter?_ Alex sent a flash of himself back in mind-Vega, shuddering, gripping Gabriel's hand. He transmitted the trust, the desperation that took. The terror behind it. The awful, ripping need for relief and mercy.
> 
> Gabriel grimaced as that sank in. He looked away. Now he felt sick, a deep illness rooted in the pit of his stomach, which blossomed weirdly in his chest. With a light touch he stroked Alex's breastbone. _Alex,_ he breathed. _Please stop this._ "

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Arrrrrrrrrrrrrgh! I am as bad at endings as I am at climaxes. Possibly worse. I apologize to you all for this monstrosity.
> 
> Please try to enjoy.

**Chapter 16**

"Noma, sweet Noma, get me out of this armor." Gabriel tugged the buckles, mouth curling tight as the motion milked pain in scintillating arcs from his side. Quick and needy, he pulled relief from his bottle, wine spilling down his chin. Thank Father, the arcs faded, whispering back to the shadow of chemical numbness.

When he looked up, though, he found Noma's eyes had narrowed.

"He's high," snickered Alex. It was the whish of fading leaves to Gabriel's ear.

"Are you seriously high?" she demanded.

"Most absolutely." Gabriel gave her a wink and a winsome grin.

The quarters adjacent to his were smaller, but still nicely-appointed: a large bed, carved furniture, heavy wooden things. Strong. Solid. Safe. This is what a wounded angel or dying man would prefer, for holing up. Reinforced windows in thick stone walls. Scarlet woven rugs and soft, matching bed-covers. Which was fine, considering Alex was bleeding all over them. Red was red, right?

_No bed-covers,_ he mused. _We should build a pile in the middle and just cuddle together. Like Brother and I. One big mass, the lot of us. A proper nest. Pillows, blankets, cocks and boobs._

Alex gave him an odd look.

Noma was bent over the boy, furiously flashing feathers to ash as quickly as physics would allow. After five or six, though, she hissed in frustration. These were not Archangel quality—and Domos was young, besides. Even a handful did little for the gaping gash. She growled in Lishepus: "He needs more than this. He has internal damage, Gabriel."

Gabriel brightened. He too switched to Lishepus: "I can rip more off."

She frowned. "Get over here."

Bossy. . . . Although in fairness, the idea of ripping them off _himself_ had not occurred. Gabriel limped over and extended his wings, grimacing as the stretch twinged his side. "Use what you need."

She turned on him, brows folded angrily. "I need your _other thing_!"

"That will take awhile." He clunked down on the bed, gripping his throbbing temples.

She raised her voice. "He's bleeding to death, damn you!"

He snapped back, "I'm aware!"

"Lemme guess," deadpanned Alex, glancing between them. "We're ordering pizza."

She switched back to English: "What's wrong with you, Gabriel? Sober up and heal your damn self."

"Penance," mumbled Alex. "He can't."

Noma frowned. "Penance? Penance for what?"

"Nothing," Gabriel declared. "Would you like some wine?" He extended it to her, seeing it bob and tremble in his hand. How strange.

"I'm going to punch you," she warned. Then she plucked several feathers.

Gabriel watched her flame one. It was beautiful, really—an immediate flash, and complete dissolution with an azure-gold corona into silky, smearable grey powder. She sprinkled it precisely inside Alex's wound, knowing the internal injuries must be healed before the skin.

Gradually, the deep ruby welling to the surface began to slow. She exhaled in relief. "Oh, thank Father." She used another the same way. "We should have done this first."

"Mm." Gabriel felt his head growing heavier. "Noma," he slurred. "Pretty Noma. You must undress me. . . ."

One of her eyebrows raised high.

". . . Before these painkillers wear off."

"I'll finish Alex first."

"Fair." Gabriel slouched over with a groan. He went to his side, so his head could find a pillow. He could hear his breathing, though, like the rising tide. It was progressively harsher, pushing against his chest, rushing in waves. With it came increasing whitecaps of pain, sweeping over him. The painkillers were wearing off fast.

"So help me, Gabriel," she told him, "if you pass out there, I'm not going to nursemaid you back to health. I'll take Alex and escape this hellhole."

"Fair," he repeated quietly. "At this point I wouldn't much blame you."

She plucked another feather from him. "The hell happened to you, anyway?"

"An argument with Michael. I decided not to heal the wound."

"Well, that was dumb."

"It seemed important at the time."

"What was the fight about?"

"At the time? Don't recall. More than anything, now, he wants me to stop fucking his Chosen One." Gabriel sighed heavily.

Noma's eyebrows went back up.

"Do I get a vote?" whispered Alex.

"No," Gabriel answered, "apparently only Michael does."

There came an awkward pause. "Huh."

"You are collared, anyway. You would get no vote; he owns you."

Alex stiffened. "Like hell he does!"

Noma winced visibly; obviously Gabriel had hit upon a touchy subject. "Alex," she warned him, "keep still and relax. I'm almost done sealing the wound."

Alex tried to sit up. "Not a goddamn dog!"

"Alex," she repeated firmly.

"Not somebody's goddamn _pet_!"

"Alex!" She shoved at his shoulder.

Gabriel interceded. He placed his palm firmly on the boy's chest, pinning him flat to the mattress. "Shh," he murmured. "Shh. Be still, like she asked you. Be a good boy."

Alex's blue eyes bore into his. _I've been nothing but a "good boy,"_ the boy whispered fiercely in Gabriel's mind. _I gave you every fucking thing you asked for._

Gabriel rubbed at his face. He did not want to get into this argument. Not when he was so sick, and definitely not impaired. _Alex, stop_.

_Your "good boy,"_ snarled Alex. _Do this, do that. Stand still so I can jerk you off. Make Noma feel like shit._

Gabriel's eyes narrowed.

Alex's eyes did not give way. _How much more do you want of me?_ he demanded. _I gave you my broken bones. Shit. I even gave you my broken spirit. Did it matter?_ Alex sent a flash of himself back in mind-Vega, shuddering, gripping Gabriel's hand. He transmitted the trust, the desperation that took. The terror behind it. The awful, ripping need for relief and mercy.

Gabriel grimaced as that sank in. He looked away. Now he felt sick, a deep illness rooted in the pit of his stomach, which blossomed weirdly in his chest. With a light touch he stroked Alex's breastbone. _Alex,_ he breathed. _Please stop this._

_Oh, no,_ continued Alex viciously. _Then on top of that, I gave you my flesh. What did that mean? Nothing._ He sent the memory of Gabriel on top of him. Gritting his teeth as Gabriel claimed him. Gabriel's weight crushing him, Gabriel's arm forcing him backward. Gabriel's cock spreading him, filling him, pulling gasps of pain as well as pleasure from his arched, taut body. _What'd you do? Just kept on hurting me. Every time. Pain, Gabriel. Every fucking time you touched me._

Gabriel took a long breath. _Alex, that's not true. Half the times you were hurt, it was not even intentional._

_Oh!_ The sarcasm was immediate and cutting. _Only_ half _the time, was it on purpose. I feel much better now._ Alex stirred on the bed beside him. He shoved Gabriel's hand off his chest. "Don't touch me. Ever."

Gabriel flinched inwardly, anger responding to insult. He let it rise. "You ungrateful worm," he sneered. He gulped more wine.

"I'm done with your shit," Alex announced.

"All the healing I gave—"

"Your bullshit lies!"

"All the fucking comfort! How _often_ do you think I cradle humans between my wings, boy?"

"Just leave me the fuck alone!" Alex shouted the words, but choked on the last. He sat back, coughing weakly, covering his mouth. He was shaking, now.

Gabriel slowly drew himself up. He forced himself to a sitting position, demanding more grace of himself than this. "That would make Brother happy, wouldn't it," he growled. "Leave the _monkey pet_ alone. Don't touch him, leave him be. Very well." He focused disdain, with all the grandeur he could muster, on the human. "You are nothing but _property_ to us, boy. Get used to it."

Alex recoiled, gaping at Gabriel as if the angel had sliced him.

Oh yes, he'd struck well. But it was hardly satisfying. Gabriel's sickness only grew as the seconds stretched out. He was becoming aware that he had cut deeply and severed something. Something strong, something . . . oddly precious. As the wound opened, deepened, and bled, it became an anguish he had to escape.

Gabriel forced himself off the bed. He fought to keep his feet once more beneath him, fought to keep all of him together, tidy, under control.

"I must remove this armor," he proclaimed. "Or it will fuse with the wound."

He staggered toward the door, stumbling, clutching the frame and pulling himself past. It felt like dragging himself through gripping, sucking mud.

  
  
  


* * *

  
  


To his surprise, Gabriel made it to his own quarters. They were just a few feet, but a life choice away. Once there, he pressed his cheek to the cool wall. Panting, gliding his fingers across the rough stones, finding the cracks. That was the only solid part of the room, he was sure; everything else was hazy, blurred. Fog had filled his world. Only the wall and his pain were real. His anguished chest, his agonized side, and the stones. The unfeeling stones.

He pressed his forehead against those. Had he truly just said he would not touch the boy? Dear Father, what had he actually said? To what had he agreed? What . . . what was binding, now?

In the meantime, he could feel the sticky goo of the wound melting against the leather of his armor. Sickness, infection. No, he would have to care for that. This was about to be hell.

Really, "further hell" was fair to say, at this point. Gabriel drew himself up, taking a deep breath. Right.

His fingers fumbled for the slick base of his armor. He took another deep breath and gripped the leather's edge tightly. He counted: three, two, one—and _wrenched_ it up.

He did not remember screaming. But he heard it, jolting from the walls and rebounding from the roof, ringing harsh and wild like a snare-noosed rabbit not yet knowing it's dead. Afterward he lay shuddering, gasping, sucking in lungfuls of air. His side was trickling wet—blood and pus, no doubt. Who knew how many layers of semi-fused flesh had come with the armor? But it was off! It was off.

And strange, so strange . . . he felt so oddly relieved. As if he had just desperately needed that scream ripped from him. Rather like the pus which now was finally draining. At last he lay quietly, eyes closed.

Gradually things settled and clarified. A sort of resolve began to accumulate from the wisps of his will and conscious mind.

He would leave the boy alone. Just study the marks. Bring Father home, as was the original plan.

He could keep his hands off the boy. What was the creature, anyway? A mere human. And Brother's pet, to boot. The boy was nothing, to him.

Nothing, the boy was nothing. A monkey. Why did he dally with a monkey, anyway? What was the appeal, in the first place?

Gabriel squeezed his eyes tighter. Why did his chest hurt so much? It must be the wound. Infection spreading. Nothing more.

There came a rustle at the doorway. Gabriel looked up to find—of course—Alex. The boy was bandaged again, and gripping his side as if it were aflame, but standing unassisted. Gabriel was surprised; the boy healed astoundingly well.

Gabriel cleared his throat. He put on a businesslike voice: _What do you want, boy? No more touching means no more healing._ He lay where he'd fallen, pretending it was perfectly natural to be supine on the floor. Truth to tell, he was not yet sturdy enough to rise.

Alex stepped forward. His gaze was steady on Gabriel, bearing down on him like azure searchlights. He spoke quietly: _Just came to see if you were dead. That scream was really something._

_Perfectly fine._ Gabriel folded his hands casually on his chest. __

_Yeah, you look great._ Alex cleared his throat, too. _So, what do we do about this link?_

The question hung there. Gabriel took a long breath. He licked his lips once, then answered: _We do nothing. You deal with it._

Alex frowned. _There's no way to close it?_

_No._ Gabriel gazed up at the ceiling, annoyed that the boy was still staring. It was rude.

_You're lying,_ Alex accused.

Gabriel shrugged.

Alex eased forward, eyes roving uneasily across the room. His shadow fell over Gabriel. He took a deep breath, then spoke in a clear, low voice: _Gabriel, let me go._

Gabriel's breath caught. He closed his eyes.

There came a pause, then Alex's voice again: _Gabriel?_ He sounded uncertain, even surprised at the response. The boy had expected anger, perhaps. Not . . . well, whatever this was. Gabriel was not sure, himself, but it wasn't anger. It felt much smaller than anger. Smaller and . . . more vulnerable, really.

Gabriel exhaled. He gave no verbal answer. Inside, he gripped himself tightly. He was sliding into quicksand, sinking fast, but knew he was not moving at all. What a strange sensation.

Alex grew impatient and annoyed. _Gabriel?_

Finally Gabriel grabbed at the bed, pulling himself to a sitting position. Of course his side screamed; he gritted his teeth and dragged himself up, regardless. At last he lifted his chin and stared into Alex's eyes. He pressed one hand to his own chest, silently. How could he explain this reluctance—even inability—to let go? Was it anger? Loss? Uneasiness? Loneliness? Possessiveness? . . . Attachment?

If the boy had been Brother, Gabriel would have simply spilled everything through the link and let it be understood. But this, this was more complicated. He could not _share_ so openly with such a creature. It was beneath him. It was unheard-of.

As a result, Alex gazed down, brows knitting. Frustration crackled through the link between them. _You're screwing with me!_

Gabriel quietly shook his head.

Alex stamped his foot. _Gabriel!_ he snapped. _Close the damn link!_

Gabriel swallowed hard. _Alex,_ he murmured, _do not ask this of me._

Alex stared at him incredulously. _Are you insane? Gabriel, why would I not ask to be freed? You've done nothing but hurt me and lie to me since I arrived._

Gabriel flinched inwardly. _I've not!_

Alex's face became angry: blond eyebrows drawing down, mouth forming a deep curve, blue eyes becoming focused and fierce. He pointed directly at the Archangel. _You listen to me, Gabriel. You are a complete fucking fraud. You promised to protect me. You even promised, as part of this link, you'd come help me if I were attacked. Great job on that one; I can't even move right now._

Gabriel interrupted, _I came to your—_

_I'm not done._ Alex drew himself up and jabbed his finger again. _You keep saying "trust me" and then, over and over, give me reasons not to. The ice water, the shower, in mind-Vega, hell, everything we do. I can't trust you, Gabriel. I can't even let you_ touch _me without half the time, knowing you will_ hurt me on purpose _. By your own goddamn admission!_

Gabriel grimaced.

Alex concluded: _I can't trust you. I can't believe you. Why in fucksake should I be anywhere near you? You're worthless to me. As a teacher or anything else._

Gabriel sucked in a breath. _Oh_ , how that struck deep! He had thought he'd launched the final salvo, back in the guest quarters, but Alex had just been warming up. He exhaled slowly, curling arms around himself.

Alex watched him, gaze fixed, intent. For just a moment, Gabriel saw regret. The boy knew he'd struck too hard, because he saw the pain on Gabriel's face—or perhaps felt it through their link. He backed off, giving ground, touching the back of his head.

Gabriel sat in silence. It took several minutes to work through it, churning through multiple layers of emotion and thought. Pain was foremost. Anger, disdain. Fury. And beneath that, of course, the ongoing frustration of having tried so hard to make things _easy_ for the boy. Of having healed, of having held, of having comforted, when in fact he was obliged to do nothing of the kind.

At last he concluded: the attack was really uncalled-for. Gabriel took another breath, feeling the emotions within him shift decisively. He let them narrow and focus in tight, ragged paths that were all too familiar.

So that's the way Alex wanted it? Harsh, accusatory, angry? . . . Very well.

_Alex,_ he answered at last. _I have already let you go, as much as I am prepared to._

_What does that mean?_ Alex demanded.

_I will not release you. You will remain bound to me._

Alex's eyes narrowed. _I won't—_

_You will._ Gabriel's voice hardened. _You chose to pull yourself away from me. That is your choice. It is now my choice to deny you complete freedom._

Alex's hands clenched to fists. _You son of a bitch._

_I will always, forever, until the end of your days, own you, Alex. And I will never release you. No matter what you do._

_You fucking_ son of a bitch _!_

Gabriel offered him a cold smile. _You should have done it my way, Alex. I could have petted you. Made it gentle, made it good. Instead, you chose the harder path. Now there's no wing-love. No comfort. No cuddling. Just my voice in your head, my grip on your mind. Forever._

_Where is that fucking sword,_ Alex hissed. He lunged for Gabriel's belt, but Gabriel was ready. He caught Alex not with his hand, but with his mind. As he did so, he realized something very important: there was no flesh to possess. This was all mental, not physical. He was actually passed out on the floor, most likely, and this was a mind-world. Alex had walked in uninvited.

All the better. Gabriel wrapped his mind very, very tightly about the boy's.

Alex hadn't a chance. Under Gabriel's command, the boy sank down. Legs folded neatly, thighs parted, head lowered. He shuddered, gasping, struggling against it, but Gabriel held him still.

_Kneel for me,_ Gabriel breathed. Freed of the boundaries of flesh, he climbed to his feet. The wound would not limit him so badly here. There was still pain, but this was far too important to sit. Now he loomed over Alex, wings spread and fists on his hips. Oh, the boy was bent so beautifully. Submissive, obedient by force. It was the most breathtaking thing he had seen in ages.

He lamented aloud, so the boy could hear: _So lovely, Alex. It's . . . unearthly. Why could you not do this on your own?_

Alex gave no answer. He trembled visibly, fighting the control. Though his head was down, Gabriel could see the tight set of his jaw.

He reached out as if to stroke those golden curls, but made himself stop. _No more touching,_ he thought wistfully. _No more petting. Let the boy sit, untouched. Un-comforted._

Yet as he watched, the boy's self-control ran out. His mind caught flame—panic, panic at being trapped, being crushed down and helpless. Alex inwardly began clawing at emptiness, writhing to get free. Gabriel grimaced, recognizing the struggle. This time, though, he watched and did nothing. He fully knew this suffering and allowed it to continue.

_Stop!_ Alex shouted. His voice became more frantic: _Gabriel, stop! Gabriel, stop! . . . Stop! Please!_

Gabriel murmured the words: _It could have been gentle, Alex._

_Fuck! Let me go. Please._ Alex could not stand this. Gabriel drew it in: the boy's lack of control, the forced kneel, the awful, belittling position before his enemy. He could see it all clearly. Cruel, it was cruel to impose upon the boy. But was this not what Alex chose?

Gabriel watched as he began to sweat. Fear was eating the boy, taking over what little control he did have. He began to shudder through Gabriel's controls, muscles convulsing on their own. His breathing became ragged and short.

Gabriel watched this. He watched Alex melt down, as forced powerlessness and shame tormented him. Twisted him. Crushed him.

_Kill you,_ whispered Alex. _Kill you, I'll kill you. I'll kill you. Oh god, when I'm free of you, I'll kill you._

_I know. Always back to that._ With a final, heavy sigh, Gabriel's anger dissolved. It was enough. This was enough. He closed his eyes, shook his head once, then placed his hand on Alex's crown. _Hush, now. Shh._

He simply couldn't watch the boy suffer. It was too much. Too much for Alex, too much for him. Just like that, his anger was sated and he was quiet again.

Calm flowed through them, cool and thick, flooding their link. It quelled the panic. Stopped the pain.

As that extinguished, Alex's body went still. His breathing became steady again. His mind became quiescent, but for one last shout:

_Release me, asshole!_

_Shh,_ Gabriel whispered, _I shall._

Alex reached up, then, and placed his hand on top of Gabriel's. He transmitted, without words, the idea of him and Noma leaving the Aerie. He looked up into Gabriel's eyes as he did so, with just the tiniest challenge.

The Archangel gave the hint of a smile. The boy was getting good at this. _Remember our agreement, Alex: I will leave Vega untouched only so long as you stay here._

Alex hesitated. He clearly remembered the agreement; he just didn't want to be anywhere near Gabriel.

Gabriel let his voice become convincing: _All those lives, Alex. Do you really want to forfeit them, because you simply don't like me?_

_Way_ _past the point of not liking you, Gabriel._

_Your choice, Alex._

_No,_ came the bitter answer, _it isn't really. But so long as you keep your damn hands off, it's fine. I'll stick with the original deal._

_So it's settled, then._ Gabriel pulled his wings in, taking a deep breath. _Shall I bind us to it?_

_Whatever, Gabriel. I'm not an angel._

So Gabriel let it go. Instead, he bent and tenderly kissed the top of Alex's head. Into the golden curls, he breathed, _It was not always bad, Alex. Please try to remember._

Gabriel released control slowly, so that the boy would not jerk back and damage himself. To his surprise, all that happened was he raised his head. For the space of a heartbeat, Gabriel realized Alex was in a kneeling position, completely without his control.

The boy fixed those blue eyes on Gabriel's once more: clear, now. Open. Sincere.

_I remember everything,_ Alex answered. _That's the whole problem, Gabriel._

With that, Alex flickered and returned to his flesh.

THE END  
  
---  
  
**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've split this work into two. This part is "All That Blood," the second half is "All Those Lives." Link so you can bookmark: <http://archiveofourown.org/works/4863287>.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Damning the Flood - Part I (Rated NC-17 / Adult Version)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4609023) by [aimlesscoyote](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aimlesscoyote/pseuds/aimlesscoyote), [Gabriel Muse (aimlesscoyote)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aimlesscoyote/pseuds/Gabriel%20Muse)
  * [Damning the Flood - Part I (Rated R / No Sex Version)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4672775) by [aimlesscoyote](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aimlesscoyote/pseuds/aimlesscoyote), [Gabriel Muse (aimlesscoyote)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aimlesscoyote/pseuds/Gabriel%20Muse)
  * [Damning the Flood - Part II (only version, Rated R)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4718147) by [aimlesscoyote](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aimlesscoyote/pseuds/aimlesscoyote), [Gabriel Muse (aimlesscoyote)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aimlesscoyote/pseuds/Gabriel%20Muse)




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